Its just never enough.

In the hot water and patchouli oil I can feel it on my back like a nail and hammer, it’s the beat of a song that contradicts itself just like me. Why does it never let me forget the dreams I used to dream? Its way to hot for more than one person, you are way too hot, such an early accusation for a friend so new. I can hum the words all I want so I can remember even though I know that if I stop they will still be stuck in my head. Why am I worried of forgetting something I know more so than the back of my hand. “Do you tend to guard yourself?” almost at an instant I reply with a yes. But is it true? How could it ever be? I thought I was the one who always wore my most important essential for living on my wrist. I am thankful for no more grudges and I am thankful for love and peace, even though it doesn’t live among the world, I am happy it lives here within myself. I need to get out of this hot water. The water I have boiled for myself. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. Hate me for it but I like the smell of the fire. It reassures me that people are here to help and will take care of me, and of you just us two. I have so many questions for the world I wish I could just fly into space and look at it face first and ask the universe what I need to hear. I think that’s just it. I am not supposed to know. Not right now at least. No one is supposed to know, we get so greedy and selfish and wrapped up in ourselves. Even if you seem like the most selfless human being on earth you mush be thinking in the end, what is in it for me? Eternal life? I wish I knew more. All I want is for you to tell me everything and all of your problems I want to know your questions. The Indians knew. I bet they still do with their herbs and prayers. I wish I was an Indian.