honey

i hold honey in my tea and hope. hope is strangely like honey these days it never rots no matter how long we keep it in a dusty cupboard. i look outside and sparrows are singing and i think to myself if the world is wonderful then maybe we shouldn't be part of it. I think and think maybe that is my problem maybe I should be loving or doing instead of thinking but there is not much to do inside of a small house there is so much to love inside of this small house. I stare out the window and i pretend to scream, to release. I used to think it would be wonderful to be able to fly, so far from people, but now i think i have had enough of being lonely for a lifetime. saving the world is not how i pictured it, there are more small moments and long silences no exploding cars i guess if this is how the world ends then at least we were quiet at least we breathed in and out together, at least there are fish in Venice again, i hold honey in my teacup and i hope.