I am opening doors with reckless abandon, without a care in the world, except for just for myself, for once, maybe.
my blood is beginning to pump nostalgia as it always does when the end is near, when change is near, with the earth is about to tilt opening and closing doors I haven’t even stumbled upon yet and now maybe never will. such a dramatic attitude to have, it’s all yours if you’d like. perhaps I should warn you, that would only be fair: it keeps you awake at night.
I’m obsessed with the future. I spend hours with my eyes closed willing it into sight.
the past runs after me and we all know I hate to run.
maybe I shouldn’t tell this corner of the world these heavy truths but the night pulls them out of me so fast I am helpless to stop them.
now the stones can sink in your stomach. open your mouth-let me pour them in.