Inhale. Invert. Revert.
A place outside of this. Where there is quiet. Somewhere solitary for an hour, or a week, or maybe a year or two. Where there is no end and no need for an end, just a horizon, just a night that comes before day that comes before night again. Where the seasons toil inexorably. Where the air blows free.
Ripples on a dream.
Shower, drive, work, eat, sleep.
Shower, drive, work, eat, sleep.
Shower, drive, work, eat, sleep.
Caress. Tomorrow, there would have been a time for such a word.
Cotton and oak.
Shade and berries.
Flour and home.
Linger. Let them linger. Let the good things linger.
Not a machine. No man is machine. Not steel, not glass, not circuit, not program.
Interrupt. Reboot. Refresh.
It lies there, beyond the brick wall, behind my eyes, within the code, lost in space. It lies there. A key, a juncture, a beckoning, a form. It lies there. I can get to it.
Fist through wall.
Inhale. Invert. Rewind. Review.
Outside. To be inside whilst outside. To be outside whilst inside. Tents pissing in and all that. Live in the world or in your head. The games people play. Women want him, men want to be him. Hands that do dishes can feel soft as your face. Alone. Good to be alone. Bad to be alone.
It’s morning again in [insert preferred country here]. The sunlight brushes your cheek and there is so much to live for.
It’s mourning again.
Again, and again, and again. Creeps in again. This slow march. Dust settles. Candle flame, out.
First, last and always, forever and a day.
Here and now, never say never.
Remembering what I was.
Remembering what I thought I would be.
It felt
different, then.
Incendiary. Retreat.
A campfire as the twilight is exhausted. Looking to wilderness.
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