Sadness and stillness.
Confusion and swirling.
I float and I fall.
They say "out of the darkness comes the light of day."
I believe that. I've felt that.
But dark dark dark
My heart knows it's own place
Has it's own timing
Runs on it's own schedule
Beats to it's own bleat.
Breath, slow down.
Heart, slow.
Where does this come from? For years now.
Change, soon. I know.
But oh, caught up in the moment of the future. Panging in the present.
No more dark. Stop.
I hear you.
It's as if I've never known anything but blue. Sometimes.
And I comfort myself with the memory of pink. Wrap myself up in gold.
Grateful for green.
It would be so easy to do what I've done.
Just go back.
Bad Seattle. Bad.
You're not even the temptress that NY is.
You're the actual good Truth. Utopic in your good flaws.
Bearable flaws. Safe flaws. Flaws that make complainers smile: "oh, adorable you."
I fear I will arrive skinned and bleeding when I'm dead. And the Others will look on me and be glad of my bravery.
I know in eternity I will soon be glad too. But not immediately. Not immediately.
I will know why I did it but still want to know.
I fight
And fight
And fight
And I just want
To be happy again.
Right again.
Not who I was... I can never be that. I accept that.
But the new happiness. The New Happiness.
The kind that makes skyscrapers gleam
Water sparkle on bright faces.
I better get back to my book.
This tossing oh.
Sweeping down.
Winding up.
And going nowhere.
