Independent in the numbers

Quality of life has no numbers

Yet statistics tell me i am good.

Money and food i hunt and gather

To reach the end of the month,

Hugs are not measurable and

luckily

renewable.

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The new year fell on us

The data are running wild chasing each

other in the living room,

the words of the manuscript are looking for a closure

among the glassware,

and another year passed.

Attending the details left from the year of the focus,

the new year fell on us with clarity and love.

Red and blue

I paint in red this Thursday

of severe miscommunication.

My headache is red like fire.

The wall in from of me is covered in flames.

Blue cold sense is born in the chaos.

Ideas are clear and still like water.

The waves lull and cuddle without any disturbance of the mind.