Perfection. Desire.

I want to be sitting in a field, alone,
Beside a tall tree but not enveloped in shade.
I want to feel the sun.
On my face, through my clothes
Laying on a blanket, I want to feel the pressure of the blades of grass pushing against my back.

I want to be tipsy and happy and thoughtful and contemplative
I want a notebook and a pen or maybe a typewriter so my hands don’t get tired
I want my body to stay the perfect temperature as I create music with words
I want to be able to stretch my toes outside the confines of the blanket and feel the blades of grass tickle my feet.
I want to feel like I have time
All the time in the world.

I want to sleep and feel the anxiety free peace of unconsciousness
Without any time passing.

I want to pause in a moment of pure euphoria
Bottle it,
And pull it out to take a quick swig
Whenever things get dark

I want to be standing in my shower
The warm water beating down on my back
My shoulders relaxed and my mind at peace

I want to wash my hair
Feeling the pleasure of my fingers scratching my scalp

But instead i sit at a desk
A hollow feeling gnawing at my chest
And I feel unfulfilled
I feel spoiled
For feeling unfulfilled