Words. Pictures. Music. Ditching attachment to rational and reasonable.



Everything here, unless credited otherwise, is copyright Tari. And remember, stealing is bad karma.

How much more poetry would I write
if I didn’t spend most of my days hustling
to pay rent?

Just saying.


I don’t know why I am always trying to understand myself
like I’m some kind of puzzle
or riddle
or story with a twist ending I’m trying to guess before it’s 
inevitably revealed.

I just want to know why I
lose myself in whatever I’m doing and forget to eat
wake up at 3:30 in the morning for no reason at all
would rather fiddle with lyrics or paintbrushes than raise a family
feel so lonely so often, when I’m surrounded by love.

I keep trying to change, 
trying to find the boundaries everyone else seems to 
just know already,
but my kit was short that map.
So I wander, not exactly lost, but definitely off the path.

I wish I could stop trying to understand, and just
let it be, be content that I am that I am.
But I suppose that whatever makes me forget to eat and sleep, and 
whatever in me is so lonely
is probably what’s looking for the answer anyway.