the box thrown away

the healing thing. its like shedding weight. the only issue some may have with this, is that when it starts to fall away, like boulders in a landslide, we tend to try to grab those rocks, scrambling to hold ourselves together. feel those things, its just a matter of staying where you are. maybe time has passed and you feel as if you wasted all that time, but if only you can just see what it is you are. then you will realize that time was a friend. give yourself a break, without breaking that focus. allowing things to break away from you isn’t identical to falling apart. like a sheep freshly shorn, you can let your skin breathe.

my neighbor has all the water. I can see him pouring it into the image of a community man, but I’ve seen the community slurs and the community coke. I have seen the community theft and what is true is only true when it is focused on.. he is dust on my ceiling fan. watching it gather through the rotations is my problem, not his. I used to be happy with that theft too.

I’m easily reminded of the years I wanted to give, and I did. I gave those years. finding a system in the chaos. I lied to myself. more than once, and I keep on lying cause it feels better to me. one death, one denial. I tell myself you loved me too. some days I wonder if it’s this town. and sometimes I think this ibuprofen is getting me high, but I mostly think about the peace that I want. peace has no face, no smell and no expectation. I wonder why I chose to fight for something when I really just wanted to come home to a home and never fight again. we are conditioned to believe that ambition is to fight. to win there must be some fight and to love.. well we must fight for that. contrast is different. it is my back and your hands.. my height and your reach

this is how I feel my way, blinded to every expression of fear. this is how I tell the story of a robin slamming itself against my door, this constant moving train slowing in illusion. this is not another girl, another town nor another life. this is a completely eaten cake with the box thrown away.

art credit: Welder Wings — Girl With a Book by Pietro Rotari, 1750–1762