Your norm, my luxury

Summer trips are your norms

They’re merely distant luxuries for me

Your grandiose house is your norm

My rent for this shack is a luxury 

Your cultural experiences are your norm

Being able to mimic it via internet is my luxury 

Your carefreeness and happiness is your norm

Reality orientation and knowing my limitations is my ball and chain norm



I get jealous

I used to not

Too busy with hell

Without the time to look around

I was always sprinting for better

Now I get jealous

But I don’t sprint anymore

I go for the long run

Because sprints aren’t gritty enough

For the long run, it’s all about the grit

I forgot for a while

Jealousy does blind you

Time does dull you

But facts never change

And that’s all the motivation I need for my grit

Just an Arm’s Distance

Covers on, too hot

Windows open, too cold

Volume a notch up, too loud

One down, too down


So then a middle ground-

Stick out a leg

Open the window just a crack

Muster up all your willpower, you lazy

and slide that volume bar to the middle ground


Too honest, too brutal

Too fake, too disgusting

Too close, too painful

Too distant, too lonely


So then an arm’s distance-

Stick out an arm

Keep an arm’s distance

and the damage is only that arm’s distance


Just an arm’s distance-

What I use to keep myself from getting hurt

Dump it all on me, little peony

Why hello, precious little peony,

What can I help you with today?

Oh I see. You’ve got a little boo-boo on your tushy

Come hither, vent everything to me, you may


Why, little peony, is the world too tough for you?

Perhaps your greenhouse kept you from the cold and from what’s real

Sweet pea, you look so blue

Oh, I see. You’ve invited yourself to my quarters to heal


Why, little peony, of course I’m always happy

I’m no shrub from the tundra but I am a strong little cactus, I’ll say

You can’t see past my silly front so I’m always so carefree, never sappy

Sweet pea, you’ve never lived the real, ugly, merciless world that I have – you’ve never had a real price to pay


Why there, little peony, of course your little ordeal is worth so much drama

This is the most exciting confrontation of your life, after all

But little do you know, I go through the ugliness of poverty and crisis – the actual drama

Little do you know how it feels like to lose it all, then slowly work to death to earn it all


Why, little peony, little do you know that I never had the time to battle emotions

Just bottle it up

Never had the luxury to wallow in sentiments

Just moved on and kept my head up

Baker’s Edge

I wonder how many batters I’ve made

trying to finally find that one perfect recipe

No, not even perfect. Perfection is too much for me to ask, my mate

Just something that’ll satiate my undying desire to make a decent cookie

First blame the recipe from online

Then doubt the oven

But maybe it was the impatience that made the cookies rather sublime

Or the overuse of baking soda that turned the cookies into mutant muffins

I’m not giving up – just taking a break

Looking for other things to do in the meanwhile

There’s more opportunities for me to bake

I’ll make my break worthwhile