Instead of worshipping a creator or man, I cared fully for myself, and felt no guilt and confessed nothing, and in this place I wrote, I was nourished, and I grew
I have other stories too strange and beautiful to be told
Not the moan but the angle of a moan
you will wait and I will never come
the only city left is outer space where we lived before we had tongues
too high in Heaven
I’ve been floating again. Between dimensions, in the moments between sleep, dream, awake. Each time it happens, I can hold on to it longer – to the limbo where I’m nowhere and nothing – untethered to any place, time, encasement.
I watch my shadow split in two, walking in front of me on the sidewalk. I hear the wind. I hear everything.
You can slow down but you can’t really stop. Not even if you wanted to. You’ll wake up on the other side of the world with a bigger burden to carry. Better take a nap here.