I took a year off.
Now, write.
Now, speak.
Now,
where was I?
Dreaming, sleeping, wondering.
The world flowed around my body and I waded through it. The water, the mud, the time, the sun. I let my heart swell, I let my stomach swell, I let my anger fade and I let my hope come into focus. I saw, maybe not the future, but a future. I saw, maybe not the truth, but my truth. I saw, maybe not the world, but a world I occupied, a world I wanted, a world I deserved. Breath in my lungs. Pulse in my veins. A desire to wake.
A worry flits through the air.
I won't live up to my character.
I won't create.
I won't speak the truth.
A worry flits through the air.
It doesn't matter whether I do.
A worry flits through the air.
My validity is my suffering.
And I am invalid.
A worry flits through the air.
It doesn't matter if I am.
I watch you move through the living room. Hips and smile. Eyes bright and true. I am ashamed of myself. Who I am, no no no, what I am. How undeserving.
You walk and speak, and touch, and carry and I am ashamed.
A worry flits through the air
and is gone.
You speak and touch. Eyes, bright and true.
A desire to wake.
Breath in my lungs. Pulse in my veins.
A desire to wake.
You walk and speak.
A desire to wake.
How undeserving.
