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Bills come in monthly.

Ways to save take time to implement.

Areas to cut back on.

What has not already been cut back on?

How close are we to homelessness?

If only more billionaires were generous

maybe more people could live better lives.

Inspiration runs dry.

Staring at the screen for ten minutes

or more.

What to write about?

Nonsense words come to mind.

Yet, haven’t I done that already?

What about lack of inspiration?

Or the first word on a paper in front of me?

Maybe something my child said?

Or simply should I rage about the current policy changes?

Maybe,

maybe

I should give myself a day.

Then perhaps something better will come along.

Have you ever had your patience tested

and it came out negative?

Does every line always become the one

that no matter how short it was

ends up where you wait and wait before you are served?

The deadline date is a promise

that causes panic the closer it comes?

Or simply the answer is right in front of you

and you can not see it for all the world.

It has been an exceptionably busy week.

Things happening.

Emotions spiking.

People met and talked to.

Therefore today I need to recharge.

Perhaps a nap?

After all I feel so so tired.

Still.

Youth is wasted on the young.

Yet wisdom is wasted on the elderly.

Why should the balance between the two be middle age?

As children grow older

they do not necessarily grow up.

Plus, age is just a number.

One that changes perspectives sometimes.

Just not always to your advantage.

There are so many reasons

as to why I should do this.

Confidence.

Socialization.

Practice at creativity.

And fear seems to outweigh them all.

You laugh.

You love.

You learn.

The life you are given

is simple to look at.

What lessons do you wish to be a part of?

The unshakeable truths of my youth

have been quivering amongst the cracks.

I see the spots of transparency

that details the holes in my youthful logic.

Can I condemn someone for choosing options

that I would not choose for myself?

The sex industry will never go away.

Standardize it and maybe people will see

the actual humans that are in it.

Unborn fetuses.

Whose life is worth more?

The mother or the child who people refuse to care for?

Moral ambiguities’ that I thought were solid

have crumbled under the weight of time’s experience.

Now, I find myself shuddering with horror at the same stories

but for entirely different reasons.