lalochezia
“I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.”
My life is like that sprawling city of New York. Cacophonous and unrequited. I sleep between bursts of questions and the exclamation point has no period. I am one line. My mood is either up or down. There is no valley to my peak; I explore the caves or the cliffs. Clara says it sounds like I need to be fully myself. Authentic. I wonder at my unrelenting desire for Truth, this thing that always changes yet never really shifts from its place. Truth is like a worm pushing through the dirt. It probes gently and moves slowly. I feel the nudge only when I am still enough to notice what is happening inside.
The outer world is far more exciting with its drama and terrors. I long to run rampant as the horses I watch on YouTube, black stallions with long tails whipping back and forth. I stave off hunger by drinking copious amounts of caffeine. I add cream to soothe the acidity. My hands shake all day. I live for the tension. I want the rapture that comes with being consumed- eaten alive by the only thing that keeps me here. What is that? I am still guessing. Right now, I am peering out through the one little window to the planets that move too slowly; I cannot see my own transformation. Location is an anchor and I am here for the moment, though I have yet to find out where home is in thirty days. What does it mean to live a sacred life? The inquiries keep me up all night.
I roam the long, dark corridors with my eyes closed. I’d rather grope my way through this world than follow a false god around. I have all my teeth, for now. I’ve only been to New York twice. Do you think it matters how many times you’ve made love? When I die, it will be with a mouth full of words I could never say living. Yes, I’ll scream at whoever is with me; I never cared for syntax!
Photo source.
