Question

I have not left

Eerie electronic hum, enveloped by the music, surging from distant polarity shifts, travel by wire

We glide from your screen to the coffee table cover sparkling on the circular ornaments

Help me not feel cyclical and give this heated frenzy a bath, cool water resting on the bed of earth resting alongside the cool water, ocean breathes heavy on my back. Gentle wind stirs the pool and the sun makes it warm.

It does not make one healthy, being so high up

My words are confusion and the lost symmetry of unending spirals, I want this to end

A constant drone strangles the feeling from all of it – the breeze has fingers. The smiling air caressing the palm of the water now strokes the tall guardians of longevity and resource.

It does finally end, and you are free, bittersweet escape from a cyclical torment still fresh in mind. Now you want it back, and it haunts and teases that part of one’s soul which is forever tied to memories that do not let themselves go easily.

Change the tune if you’d like, but the frequencies are all pulled together towards a familiar sound, something dark and unsure (you have been here before), a momentary waffling between the familiar idle days of summer (the endless references to abstract comfort) and the mindless looping of clustered noise and that double-handed jackhammer, relentless like bad sex (the kind that comes after the first one, not intoxicated and loose but sober and with purpose and awkward) which melts away into numb unchanging uncomfortable sores

Spend some time in the green and blue, hug the wind because it is stable and hug your friends because they are there for you

Close your eyes slowly as the whirlwind of life surrounds you in a lifeless vortex, inanimate objects providing minor windows into the angled thoughts of general populations that are only seen in spots and patterns. Who would be there to understand what just happened?

But it gets back to the rhythmic pulse of that familiar flow, a jumbled flock of boulders smiling as they roll down the hill, bouncing unevenly to the bottom of a deep dark pit.

Go Back.