(no subject)
blue field, grey-brown plank, little catch of red, salt air, deep rush, pull to the edge.
On the roof I think I smell it- sea-salt air. Stars-above-us, cars-below-us! Like those days, there are so many adventures, so much streamlining, but I am slower, heavier, more practical.
I see the small clothes, cream lace and black, clean lines. I think but I don't believe. I'm sad but the reason's lost. Is it impossible to be like this? What if I became it?
Out of nowhere I want to cry on the way home. I want to explain it to *yi. Here's a question you're scared to ask-- does *yi not care? Of course not, there is no understanding. I wonder how similar we are. Even if I am not one of those things, I want to dress up like one and pretend. I can imagine myself that way easily. I want, almost, to believe I am K**i.
Can we- can we sit and have an understanding without explanation? I think I'd like it that way. I feel clumsy when I try to talk about it. I want to rest. Have I gotten any rest this past year?
What is this warm soft thing that comforts me? What is this vast thing that spreads across the sky? What is this ecstatic thing that follows me? Is it you, **O? Is it my d**d h*****d? Is it some bright part of myself? If *yi goes, will *yi blend into it too and comfort me and spread out over everything?
A lot of right now will be lost. I am not sure there is much to remember. The train, maybe, that euphoria. Bicycling over bridges, feeling trusting.
Everything else is mundane, made from earth and food and money. I buy into it wholeheartedly, I put my back into it.
On the roof I think I smell it- sea-salt air. Stars-above-us, cars-below-us! Like those days, there are so many adventures, so much streamlining, but I am slower, heavier, more practical.
I see the small clothes, cream lace and black, clean lines. I think but I don't believe. I'm sad but the reason's lost. Is it impossible to be like this? What if I became it?
Out of nowhere I want to cry on the way home. I want to explain it to *yi. Here's a question you're scared to ask-- does *yi not care? Of course not, there is no understanding. I wonder how similar we are. Even if I am not one of those things, I want to dress up like one and pretend. I can imagine myself that way easily. I want, almost, to believe I am K**i.
Can we- can we sit and have an understanding without explanation? I think I'd like it that way. I feel clumsy when I try to talk about it. I want to rest. Have I gotten any rest this past year?
What is this warm soft thing that comforts me? What is this vast thing that spreads across the sky? What is this ecstatic thing that follows me? Is it you, **O? Is it my d**d h*****d? Is it some bright part of myself? If *yi goes, will *yi blend into it too and comfort me and spread out over everything?
A lot of right now will be lost. I am not sure there is much to remember. The train, maybe, that euphoria. Bicycling over bridges, feeling trusting.
Everything else is mundane, made from earth and food and money. I buy into it wholeheartedly, I put my back into it.