feel the flood wash you up
but breath also rises beneath covers
stung by the light of dawn’s eye
tired and bitter, half undone
stillness is waiting for the sun
lift the lock I need to go home
TONIGHT IS NOT FOREVER / DON’T BELIEVE WHAT YOU HEAR
Just did a 10 ft dive into the archives of my e-self. The most shocking is that I remember every intention behind each of the stylized and very much romanticized posts that I wrote (lol.) Scary and sad and hilarious. We get older and duller but want all of the same things. For example, upon semi-superficial inspection of my modern (2010-present) writing, we can detect feelings of longing (belonging?) and/or dramatic moroseness due to too much Telepopmusik circa 2006. And here I am now, hanging on to that same lovey dovey figment of my imagination only sidetracked by my neighbors’ routine viewing of the television program, “Survivor.” Secret be told, I used to make wishes. Maybe I should have wished for something else.
But in the words of your, my, our very private modern heroine (whom will not be named for fear of disappointment): “I want to feel everything there is to feel.”
I think she said that……
My evolution is weirding me out.
Band of Outsiders.
3.1 Phillip Lim.