Badness

The worst thing that you can do is try to substitute feelings
What I feel is what I feel is what I feel
Intention’s as clear as day and as finicky as a buzzing neon colored night light
In all this badness, I fall down on my knees
Still looking up

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Chicken-broth like foreign scent and blinds

The rare subtle scent of something like mild diluted chicken-broth or a faraway whiff of miso soup does this to me. It took me years and years to figure out what this scent really could be, and up to today, I’m ninety-five percent sure that it’s related to meat; and most likely chicken. This rare, and what was once a welcoming foreign scent, takes me back to that new land that I flew into late into the night filled with excitement and hopes. Wonder shining from the eyes of a child who is looking towards the window; marveling at the engineering of…
blinds. And it also reminds me of the missed realities; like bloody chicken tendons and flesh, and aggression brewing in the kitchen from an aunt who really cringed behind her believable warm smile.

Now that I know now what I didn’t know then; can this foreign scent, once so full of hope and curiosity, ever become tainted?

 

Digital Camera