August 30, 2017

I appreciate these moments. laying on a palette in my van in a auto shop parking lot, sipping on wine, smokin ganja, writing poetry. it’s simple. it’s nice. it’s me. in my natural habitat i stay. nude. natural. honest. Alone. I feel like some people struggle to find those sincere moments. fearful of being their unfiltered self. Unfiltered. Belly bloated. scabs exposed. Summer sweaty body. What are we afraid of? Your own judgement. inflicted insecurities? Your ego? out of all of the nonsense deemed socially acceptable; or for lack of a better word “normal”, why is rawness not? fully concealed intelligence? I often find freedom in these times. Free to write. Free to have a conversation with myself aloud about whatever i please. No ones listening, and if they are i hope to be an inspiration of the comfortability with ourselves that we should all house within. i hold no shame. no embarrassment in. being me. its me. and i do what i fancy, when i fancy when im alone i can do anything. sing songs as if i wrote them myself, play with my rolls, my breast. sip all the wine my heart desires. laugh at my memories. revisit my lovers. Daydream about the infinite. This rawness grounds me, and brings me peace and comfort when the external is draining. My body and mind are solely mine. for my amusement, for my pleasure. Society tells me to conform and be self conscious about my unique thoughts and ways of being. Well my thoughts give me permission to be naked, tipsy, jammin, writing in my van at 2 am so imma follow that instead. Fuck. Just be.