<transcript><audio_3>hedonist what do i live for is it the blossoms on the vine the tart fruit on the tongue a lover's soft and kind words kisses in the dark colors and the light</transcript><transcript><audio_4>the lapping waves and kind sun a table of friends smiling faces the light beyond the shadows work to live live laugh love for sure but it gets hard medical debt growing like the guilt of</transcript><transcript><audio_5>every sick day home an unopened mail that overflows the mind and bowl so yes i live for those kisses and gentle caresses</transcript><transcript><audio_6>don't call yourself lazy they said i feel lazy though there's so much i want to do a world unbuilt grass and weeds grown long no more money for vacation</transcript><transcript><audio_7>so much work i left for monday no time to grieve no time to eat or rest inspiration beckons only in vacuum lazy perhaps not but how to live in a world built upside</transcript><transcript><audio_8>down dog walkers adorable little cones of paper as if full of fried potatoes green and crushed and ready to be burnt</transcript><transcript><audio_9>they're cute aren't they snacks eyes and their little tin meant for a brief jaunt on the way to steak and egger maybe</transcript><transcript><audio_10>this poem is called ancestors a letter great yaya rosa whose surname i bear with honor and gratitude george and mary chava and tama ancestors i never met</transcript> hedonist what do i live for is it the blossoms on the vine the tart fruit on the tongue a lover's soft and kind words kisses in the dark colors and the light the lapping waves and kind sun a table of friends smiling faces the light beyond the shadows work to live live laugh love for sure but it gets hard medical debt growing like the guilt of every sick day home an unopened mail that overflows the mind and bowl so yes i live for those kisses and gentle caresses don't call yourself lazy they said i feel lazy though there's so much i want to do a world unbuilt grass and weeds grown long no more money for vacation so much work i left for monday no time to grieve no time to eat or rest inspiration beckons only in vacuum lazy perhaps not but how to live in a world built upside down dog walkers adorable little cones of paper as if full of fried potatoes green and crushed and ready to be burnt they're cute aren't they snacks eyes and their little tin meant for a brief jaunt on the way to steak and egger maybe this poem is called ancestors a letter great yaya rosa whose surname i bear with honor and gratitude george and mary chava and tama ancestors i never met
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