(no subject)
standing behind my apartment building i match fingers to stars and the moon destroys the leaves in its light's descent to earth. the light there is so old, the daylight here is old too. it takes three hundred thousand years for the energy at the middle of the sun to make it to the surface. sitting next to you, doing the same things we always do, sometimes i know exactly what you'll say next, like the past chewed up and spit back out at us. and i hear the rain before it comes, the breeze serves as forewarning. i'm trying to reconcile my life with the hundreds of thousands of years that it takes sunlight to illuminate the back of your head and with the rocks that are billions of years old. i am trying to reconcile my life with a million things i think don't matter. i'm trying to make a fucking sand castle and there is no water in sight to keep the bits stuck together. i don't know what i'm doing or what i'm doing here and that's a thing i don't think i can reconcile but must settle into. there is no father and this is no reconciliation.