Oh gosh a baked yam would be so great right now.

Home might be still the
happiest place on earth,
to live, and return,
and in growing,
created.

Off into the wilderness, like a monk, I go.
Will there be moms and fathers there; I know
there will be not, but maybe in the future there
will be.

Bare

what would we do
to lie from ourselves
the truth of what we believe,
untruth of what we really know
is false. So many layers
to peel back: like a fence
ten thousand of them, for
one, is pulled up so a friend
can crawl under.
But who to do the next
while the first comes through
we're born in it. It's all
so sick, if you're taught
lying is disease
and the worlds you live in
are lies. Think! but think
under the established.
Always under the established
because you are little.
And I am liar. The Lord God Liar.
Listen don't
listen to me. To live
is lying.

Only:
To take all your clothes off
think bare.

Work is same ‘ol, moving the pieces along, it’s okay, busy better than bored, no crisis here.