Quarantine after a poetry night.

An hour of voice
and then
silence.

Except
thoughts are racing though my mind:
My last hug? R, Lor, or Heleen.
That is.. if we include pets.
My last human hug? only one in July.
Well.. not exactly, but it works.

Holidays? Hah.
I mean, the last real one was surrounded by idiots.
Theatre? 2 January and 1 October.
From finding somebody to love to wild desire.
But no being death thing, Benzin, Circle of life or song and dance,
It is all Far Too Late for that now.

Yes, there is musicalchoir instead of musicalclass.
Tthat's fine, really.
It's not working towards a musical though.
Nor is it being social with the group.
And fuck.
It might be surprisingly
but damn, I miss my few friends too.

Yeah, there are workshops and streams online,
just as with rockchoir.
That has helped, true.
It's not giving the same energy as experiencing it life though.
The energy that I miss.
The energy that made me feel alive.
The energy that makes my mind
silent.

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