nothing happens on purpose cause it's all running out of hand. &out of time to sit back and enjoy it; so we stretch the days until we're forever stuck in yesterday. last night becomes this afternoon while we make plans for tomorrow or how to stop this ongoing process. in the end the most important remains unsaid, but hopefully understood while the will was there to bring it up; if only my eyes were able to focus or my feet able to carry me all the way across the room filled with creatures who tried to communicate with me in a way i am unfamiliar with. fingers sliding down the body they're attached to, with no hope to ever feel mine. i stare until they're gone &i always stare too long so shapes melt into backgrounds which start to liquidize and form little puddles around my feet so i won't go anywhere. stay &watch, stay &stay.

i moan in my sleep &sometimes when i'm awake to check my voice &clear my throat &pretend to choke until pretending becomes an obsession and it becomes making it happen, my nose and mouth in war with my lungs. after a while i grab the bits and pieces together &force them to cooperate cause i have better things to sweat &swear about.

i wonder if this all seems the same, a story told over and over again. i assure you it is not, & i will show you soon, while you laugh at the wisdom you think i possess. it's just experiencing, experimenting. hard to catch while it spreads like a disease.

.

x