no-humans land
I’m lying in bed. When I'm not lying in bed, I'm either dancing, or building some wondrous machine that I think might save us. Right now I'm lying in bed.
On the far wall, strips of sunlight from the blinds slowly crawl, and it carries such weight for me, this occurrence, even though light is the lightest thing in existence.
Sometimes, I feel so heavy that an entire novel could be written from a single minute of my thoughts. Is that what I want? Some dirt to put my roots in, when the whole world is covered in carpet that has to be vacuumed every night?
This is no-humans land, and I’m here to do battle once again. The ground will shake but it won’t make a sound, because there’s no one to hear it, no one’s around.
Valentine’s Day memories from childhood, entombed in a room. Van Halen pants on a clothesline, stretched from here to the moon. But most of all a pink balloon stuck in a tree, which, when you see it, makes you think “that’s me.” And I believe you, but right now I’m at the bottom of the sea, contemplating this immense pressure, and why I feel like a nobody.
In the darkest darkness I run my fingers through the silt, imagining I’m on a sunny beach and the silt is dry white sand. I think about the year 1920, and the pile of books on my nightstand. They talk of ancient knowledge, deep wisdom, rebirth and renewal. Supposedly they can teach you how to turn any old rock into a jewel...
Last night I had a dream that some guy and I figured out how to "beat the system" by digging a network of underground tunnels to evade authorities. After being chased many times but always escaping, we had finally won. There was nothing left to do after that; we were done. I asked my new friend what his plans were now, and he said he didn’t know, and that it didn’t matter anyway, and he wandered off without a care in the world. I was astonished. I had all but forgotten you could be like that.
~
2016 - 2021