"There is only one day left, always starting over: it is given
to us at dawn and taken away from us at dusk." ~ Jean-Paul Sartre

It’s the twilight time and
a veil of serenity descends
upon the earth,
the sun lolls momentarily
over the calm waters
of a sluggish sea before
dozing off in its warm bosom.

Vistas of sylvan charm
seemed to unwrap ahead and
a somnolent dusk pervades
every aspect of this weary world…

A sea-weary boat tethered by the shore,
like a man on his deathbed
rests at peace with himself—

say we end up as driftwood, maybe as
something from the mainland, maybe the dead body
of a child on the banks, flotsam—and there’s
a child playing with shells nearby—this could be from memory
or premonition, or simply a photograph—and the child
is so old he keeps us in the cataracts and opaque
places oh his eye. he sees at first, he has intuition.
then from shame, a need to turn away, maybe a sense of duty
he has learnt from his mother when his father prays all night,
things he has not been taught but knows,
makes him put us into his blackspot

I can hold out for upcoming mental health therapy until Wednesday at 1:00 p.m.

Yes, and you (like I) will probably presume me deservedly cursed for flagrante delicto years ago.

After I experienced the following catastrophe (written in my freestyle poetry), you won't be surprised that taking an overdose of one or more of the nine prescription medications became a very appealing exit from aggravating travails.

"Hell hath no fury
like a Matthew Scott Harris
fleeced, milked, and scammed"
affected double whammy debacle
worse than being bamboozled

what’s lonelier than an empty platform,
a solitary guard, the blue screens announcing time,
in a place where nothing is no longer linear,
standing there sending pictures of trains to an old love,
counting steps, wondering how the journey
of life has led you here,
wishing for the smell of frangipanis,
old love’s strange smell of acetone and perfume,
a lunar new year, only lonelier.

I came across https://mymollet.com/what-is-ethereum/ while browsing Twitter. Someone shared it in a thread about beginner-friendly crypto content Ethereum. The structure of the article really worked for me — it moved step by step from basic definitions to practical uses. I appreciated how it didn’t assume much prior knowledge. That’s something a lot of crypto resources miss. Now I feel like I can actually talk about Ethereum without guessing.

Breakfast for Dinner
By: Know Now

What Dad knows to cook:
-Eggs
-Scrambled eggs
-Bacon
-Spaghetti
-Pb & j sandwiches
-Ham sandwiches
-Salad

Breakfast
Lunch
Dinner

Breakfast
And Dinner

Dinner.

Dad always got up from 7 to 5
For work.
Dinner is the only thing we ate
Together.
Breakfast for Dinner
Is more like it.

He only knew how to make
A few things,
But I was okay with that.

I’m okay with that.

Today, we’re eating
Scrambled eggs with bacon
For dinner.

When furry paws must cross the skies,
Or feathered wings seek distant highs,
Let not the journey bring you fear —
With JCS, your pet is near.

They cradle care in every crate,
Through every border, port, or gate.
From dogs and cats to birds that sing,
They handle every little thing.

Paperwork, crates, the travel plan,
It’s all arranged by their skilled hand.
So trust your friend with those who care —
JCS will get them there.

Don't leave it up to chance or guess,
Choose calm, choose safe — choose JCS.

The sun, a child's balloon,
broke free of dawn's soft hand,
floating over rooftops—
a lily in the sky's blue mouth.

I watched from the window,
the air still heavy with sleep,
morning’s quiet dust
settling into the folds of my clothes.

Your absence, too, was a dust—
the only inheritance you left behind.
I wore it like a coat,
thick, made for colder days
than any I had known.

When the world woke,
it woke without you.
The streets stirred,
alive with ghosts of lesser grief.

I walked among them,
a statue in sneakers,

Blue swathes  of lament cast skeletal shadow,
o’er this dreaded pang as a grim mist,
segues silently into dark claustrophobic canyon,
where rabid zeal of hearts once bristled and smouldered,
from  intense magma’s deep red throbbing vein,
as I dwell on faint recall of wild scent purple heather walks