Little tiny stars run across a map of the world I hold in my hands. We discuss escape between us at work. Routine is a bitch. We were not designed to only see as far as our own noses... "I thought to myself on the train this morning...is this the way I want to be living for the next 30 years ?!"....
"That idea can fuck right off...."...I keep my patience.waiting for the sun to return so I can lie in the grass amongst daisies and dandelions. Thinking of the way I used to close my eyes to its glare and be amazed that I could see the veins of my eyelids as I attempted to stare straight through them. Warm and red...it used to make me giddy with joy....I tell myself my mind can be that quiet again. That unencumbered by worldly weariness.
That finally I've come full circle back to that place where I can lay there and not have my mind race- with fears unknown. With the fear of merely being fearful.
"Rumination"....the word sprawls itself out across my brain. Lolling, haphazardly...
I'm grumpier than a big fuck off bear that's just been woken from hibernation.
It's the middle of the night...
(...I started this at- rumination- then I went off wandering into something else....)
I have this weight of words twisting tension into my shoulders...frustrating me with an inability to extract them into something that makes sense.
They sit, at the base of my skull. Bubbling.
This headache needs sleep.