(i look at sand and the sand is within me. every night, i sink into this restless waiting of something unnamed. instead of undressing and removing the mascara and shedding the wrong kind of skin, tidying the debris of today, i stare and lie in wait. i apply more lipstick. i wait and do not sleep but because nothing happens, a certain vitality ebbs away that now i’m afraid i’m grasping on a connection so thin and frail. i sink. i feel a lack of something essential. i am so incredibly thirsty and in need of something real and heavy, a conversation, a weight, a solidity to keep me here, now and present. if living is living externally then i wish none of it. it does not fill you inside. it demands so much and takes so much that there is no more for reading, for seeking or meditation, for simple, mere dreaming. i do not feel like myself. living should only be about the soul but this soul is no longer breathing but crippled. internally it crawls; it weeps.)
Sunday, March 23, 2014
do you know where i've been? i have never been so tired, flying to a city miles away from home and coming back so much heavier with feelings: a longing to stay, yearning to return. underneath rows of colored flags and past sunsets of varying colors, we sped through the highway like kings. traveling to a foreign but not so unfamiliar town gave us that arrogant bravery to sit on dark, yellow-lit streets unconcerned. by the sidewalk were eight of us, great kingdoms rising within our chests. it was symbolic of youth but more than that, it was life. we were alive, we were alive.