it's plain to see
I don't have anything to say, but I write anyway, for the sake of keeping some routine.
Lately I usually fall asleep to the sound of rain on my white noise machine. Last night my heartbeat was moving at a different pace than the recorded rain. The difference in rhythm was unbearable. I shifted to 'sea waves.' I woke unsettled.
'there's a sea secret in me.'
Today's tea bags still float in the trash can, pale and bloated. Like spent jellyfish, beached on the plastic liner. I think there are five. or maybe six. I chart their course by the caffeine in my blood.
we create our own chaos.
we only come into being in the presence of the other.
I don't know if I believe either of those two statements. Still, they exist and they'll work as well as any other.
I have been toying with the idea of leaving this house and joining the wretched tour. This is both a good and a bad idea. God knows, something needs to change.
None of this makes sense. Our waves are not consistent. They have fallen out of sync. We lose the beat, the crush, the tidal flow and cancel each other out.
Maybe I'll look to the moon to pull me back. But then I'm not so childish as to pin my hope on a reflecting satellite?
Goodnight
Lately I usually fall asleep to the sound of rain on my white noise machine. Last night my heartbeat was moving at a different pace than the recorded rain. The difference in rhythm was unbearable. I shifted to 'sea waves.' I woke unsettled.
'there's a sea secret in me.'
Today's tea bags still float in the trash can, pale and bloated. Like spent jellyfish, beached on the plastic liner. I think there are five. or maybe six. I chart their course by the caffeine in my blood.
we create our own chaos.
we only come into being in the presence of the other.
I don't know if I believe either of those two statements. Still, they exist and they'll work as well as any other.
I have been toying with the idea of leaving this house and joining the wretched tour. This is both a good and a bad idea. God knows, something needs to change.
None of this makes sense. Our waves are not consistent. They have fallen out of sync. We lose the beat, the crush, the tidal flow and cancel each other out.
Maybe I'll look to the moon to pull me back. But then I'm not so childish as to pin my hope on a reflecting satellite?
Goodnight