Good things happen to good people

So where's the lean, brown, wiry laziness in my living space?

When did you get to be so big in my head? I will never know. Maybe the entire time when I was soaking myself with uncountable cups of sick sweet chai. Or when I pretended to be sweeter than I really am. Or while walking up that winding path along bright red and yellow bell pepper. Maybe it was the moment i read the words 'hazaar fucked'. Or when cooking tamarind and spice wafted through the empty walls.

I know it's pretty when your head is somewhere else. All the time. But when did i lose the ability to land softly back? I wish I could redo the auto ride from the airport.

It tires me. To constantly find ways to distract.

I want to sleep.