featherweight

I am a feather weight.
Blown off course by every breeze.

I am learning like a four year old.
Fist clenched and thrust to the ground.

These seams are sown with double edge.

At the end of the week i am searching for a site that is refreshing and silent and dark. I want to reveal all these secrets, but the web too highly matted. I know too many people to ask for support.

Scorching or soaring.

She told me to slow down. threatened to mimic generational gaps. a constant nag like a telemarketer late at night.

I need a pace maker to regulate my heart. Every surge of desire that propelling me forward is balanced by the gravity of fear. The what ifs pile in the corner. A cycle of laundry cleansed and soiled.

Yet these days are mostly uplifting as the thermals sneak through the gap and in to the town. I rise with it. Earlier each morning. Scorching and soaring until the last of the light.

depth sounder

These choices are plauged by life and death.

I'm out of my depth

Breast stroking.
moving hand away from heart
and back again.

The learning curve
is steep
i am breathless
chain smoking

fear
of heights

between lightening and darkening

sometimes my body aches with it. the dull throbbing an aching set against the sky lightening and darkening again. flowing from feet to crown and back again. a cyclical silence of time.

the horizon undefined. an elastic destiny. we snap small peices of rubber and call them fate. rushing through the hours we hesitate before unconciousness. small offerings to contemplation.

but on this dawn i am between these things. between wanting and hoping and prayer. a small creek gushes where once there was drought. weaving water where once only was sand.

honestly?

my head purrs like holden dreaming. searching for content in the context. a split second helpings to fill my plate with taste.

beyond the cryptic and the mystic what do these conversations mean? if i could vent the air would blow through the cold. rise to the ceiling as physics demands. would a more explicit version fade into perversity? have we really seen it all before?

the truth is i am at a crossroads and the signs are in a language that i cannot read. i am trying to decipher desire from pretense. i am too preoccupied with memento moris to live in the moment.

i just want a path that is flat and clear
but you can't climb hills without changing gears
and breaking a sweat every now and then

tracking time with small notches

you say these things with paitence. with carefully measured breath. a millimetre of miscalculation could be fatal at this point.

it doesn't get easier as you go along. the overheads are larger. investments must pay dividends. i am trying to match cups and saucers and other implements i don't use.

miss you

left behind at a lonley counter in an isolated town.

whirring with reasons. humming in harmony with preambles about destiny. the second time in three weeks. racking up the dollars and debt hangs like a shadow in the sunniest of yards.

i rebook and replace. readjust and can taste. i act without thinking these things through too much. am i foolish or free spirited? have i something to learn with this hand over fist, hand to mouth, fist to air?