Curiosity is a child throwing food off a table because they haven’t yet discovered the splatter of applesauce colliding with floor.
They don’t know yet how bad falling can hurt.
And they don’t seem care about the mess because they haven’t had to clean it up yet.
They’re stuck in their high chair.
Throwing food onto the floor because they are eager to learn that grapes bounce and mashed potatoes don’t.

Curiosity is a teenager folding tin foil over an empty water bottle.
Poking holes.
Breaking up bud and lighting it quick.
They don’t know yet how high they can be without it.
But they do know the best way to make a home made bong.
They’re not stuck.
They are just melting into couch cushions hoping to discover comfortability.

Curiosity is college hearts, lingering, desperately wondering if the past could have lasted long enough to be present day.
They don’t know yet how hard they need to beat.
Or when they should stop to breathe.
But they do know veins are important and blood flows blue within them.
They’re not broken.
They are just dispersed throughout lost loved ones.

Curiosity is questioning.
It is drive.
It is the search for new.
The want for reason.
And the rhythm within.


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