Relax

Sometimes I worry like its fashionable. I stay up all night pulling at my hair, wondering why I feel like I’m balding. Other times I get really anxious, like mini-anxiety attacks. I don’t think this has anything to do with life. No, instead I think it has to do with me.

I should keep these things locked away for some time. The deal gets better with patience. The new changes that come. The desire to free-form and throw up. I miss being twenty-four because bad grammar was a lot easier to tolerate.

Age brings the mirror more into focus. The years are spent making eyes to see with. There is a seduction in madness. Something that acts like a black-hole for everything I love to laugh howlingly back into.

It feels like shaky legs on a boat listlessly ambling away from harbor. I’m blessed to know water. Like a cradle moving back and forth birthing my sea legs. I can stand, but I wonder if I’m supposed to swim.

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The knowing when to stop and when to move on, the rubber band psychology. No one hears us and one day we’ll live like two corpses together in the ash of the world. You and I are the lucky ones. When I think about my lover, I always remember how much we’re going to hurt each other when one of us dies.

Love is almost too boring to write about but it animates my pens and papers into scribes for a teeming brain. I sometimes think like it's fashionable too. Haute Couture thinking. The eccentric I was becoming, lost in the eccentric my previous-self created.

I wonder, if the cascade begins, who can be foolish enough to call it to a stop? The stream rushes forward. These words feel like rushing water from a fresh rain picking up the debris in my clouded mind and emptying the fragments of millions of disjointed ideas from one source into the vast nothing. The journey of a long sentence and the thrills of its unexpected cliffs.