In a cozy, little corner—
I scoop up squiggles on paper
And bash them into blue screens,
Casting permanent markings…
And yet I don’t seek attention;
A quieter year is my resignation.

Trade wars vanish like a gaslit craze;
And yet my poor heart dissolves into rage.

Sunday matcha and mango milk teas repress
The past long decade, I still find utter meaningless
While the world turns around like there’s nothing amiss.

-jkf, 04 February 2025.