Tired of waiting for warmer times. Chasing sunny days compares to chasing the grand dream.
The cold wind scares me onto assorted bus lines jazzing all over town. In between the designated times is there still a fraction of me left?
New constants were introduced: beer always too foamy, eternally wet hands, all my hated bands as the soundtrack, night owl having to be herself and the early bird.
Half the effort wins all the hearts in the room by just walking in. What would all the effort do?
I am more alive in people’s minds than in my own body.
Oh, yes, to crave the televised fights reveals absences in connections and I shudder at the thought.
Hugging the steel blue wall of that house I passed for years the exhale is marvelous. Comforted by rugged stone I rip my hands on human contact. Dancing in the same spot to the same tune and the pain constant instead of temporary. Commitments piling up, perspectives running out, head swelling, heart shrinking.
I buy more locks and safety bars for the well. Once opened there is no telling what devastation might be left behind. Best to tunnel underneath the river with iron strength and see the other side. The darkness of the confined space frees you of more distant worries and liberates the fighter within, hopefully.
“I’d never thought that I’d turn down the offer to fail.”