Everything churns and bubbles, destructive lava down the mountainside; Boiling and massacring each obstacle in its path. It is summer and I am ready to renew. I have moved up and on, out and away. So far, towards unknown areas and people. Soon though, so soon, my future--the horizon--will be clear, vibrant and before me. I can fill it or leave the colors misty and undiscovered. I can slowly uncover the pinks and greens, I can rip the shroud away, changing colors, all at once. It is mine and beautiful. I can cradle, and keep it safe. I can soar forward through and around it. It is mine and malleable. I can grasp it, let it slip slowly through my fingers, or set it free. This is hope. this is wanting something, reaching for it, holding breath and keeping fingers crossed, almost touching what the beauty is... I am breathing unrestrained, deep gushes of clear wind, spewing out poison and toxin. Breathing out past and pretext. Sucking in deep, clear, cold air... Enter me with care, gentle breeze, caress and lift my weary shoulders. Play softly through my hair, lift and lower my sheer coverings. ...Thank you...
Later, on the train:
Good morning, soon morning, after noon morning, mooring a place a space mourning moaning. Lost but found soon.
Today, I slept in a quiet, clean space, not-yet-home space. I imagine his face, a smile, a thought...leading here again. I think and churn in that thought, follow me to where I am going. Leave, left and cut loss for once, not me. Already thoughts obstructed by thoughts. Simple pictures and actions...so pure and cold. And the buildings extend me till forever, upward outward. What do they suck and take from me? leach from me? What do I offer strange, lost souls? What worth do they see in frail, lost me? I can imagine a pull, long string straw leading to me, leaching me. But...what is it sucking, slurping? I rise in the hot air, tethered several places through cold-become-warm straws, strings. Face only when necessary, take only everything wanted and exposed. Leave the rest drained and flat, near at rest. But...I rise past reach, reach cooler warmth, cradled softly-smoothly. Warm wetness cools and airs thick-become-thin skin, shape. Perfect outline drips, drops, a soft shape-rain. A fluid mold-un mold cascade inmotion, lifting in its stealthy quickness.
Later, to the airport:
What would I paint with my bawdy brushstrokes? What sludgy, coarse grind mashes in front? Trudging through slick melding madness, soft frustration, slightly comforting, causing discomfort. What feelings are mine alone, which shared? I would like these quiet whisperings to stalk the night and evade notice, invade sleep-thoughts not my own. Should everyone not notice and see? Should these quiet imaginings burst to soft-bright light, undoubtedly they would spread slow ashes, spark one cinder to travel with into the next ash: snide cinders that gather near charred darkness. Take me with you. Carry me in your thoughts, minds, hearts, heads, hands, fingertips. Let the moisture drip down and singe small cinders, smoke spreading thinly then thickly. Gray, opaque tendrils felt, unseen. That is me slowing near, then in you. Surrounding the emptiness and slightly filling clarity.
Later still:
I am awash in a cool, clean, safe space. I am nurtured among the swift slow treetops, shivering shaking, warding and wakening good air, outside space. I grew to hate the smell and feel of my prison walls, never knowing inside that door, that sour fortress. I walk slowly, so slowly to this place, this thing seen yet shrouded in the distance. I drift toward it backwards, there before my mind arrives. Shut down, quiet and within my mind, so still as not to wake it. I creep through, crepe faced, beige and white.
The singing stopped, that sweet gift, unless in shouting upset. Slow, languid, long and full, float without landing songs, replaced by silence steady. We shuffled silently flat-footed. We were without one shared not-song. Replaced by flat voice and affect. So, dear sweet, return slowly with grace, end this dry chalky space. Land so I can float you out and away again. Take your dear, sweet time floating, no rush but want to be together; only fluttering too-breath-close til I breathe you in deeply, slowly at first, Dear Heart. Let the wind cry at the loss of you. Let the birds and trees beckon you back. You are soon to leave me, I cannot contain you, for you expand past me. Sit with me for every stolen moment and then float free and away. I know you will return to deepen my shallow breath, to caress that sleeping part of me, resting part of me, napping tender slight pink part of me, ever present and ready to open, lightly tickled and nuzzled to wakening. Touch down with no warning, fill me full and long. You are true and singular, ready to unleash the caught thoughts, in soft perfection. Well in my chest and spring forth from my hearts ,sweet kiss. I promise to leave you free, give freely of you, and tenderly worship you, single splendor, only unchanging true love. Tenderly caress me to wakening...
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