I became an escape artist
Devoid of meaning but ripe w truth
I only cried x the number of time
zones from the starting line
I watched every sun rise and took setting as a sign
And I was strange to myself
Time heals all things especially if it hurts:
dead skin scraped, hairs pulled, cornea sliced, tooth extracted, shoulder separated, nerves pinched, cells killed. scabs. scars.
Hair cut, grown, cut, grown, cut, grown, cut grown cut grown cutgrown cutgrown grown out.
tears welled/streamed. tiny veins.
jawbone trauma, heavy pliers. steel lodged.
“No bikes on the bus.”
(Can’t believe I have to say this)
Spinal disks bulge
Open stasis_inability to thrive
despite those who sell Thriving
as a concept, or to behold
don’t let me learn you, doll face
Because I will, and we’ll change
Even when we expect it, even when we apologize for it, even when we accommodate it, even when we bar ourselves from it, even when—
Change is the great pressurizer. Change is the tide we beg to return to sea.
But it won’t, it will barrel on endlessly, it knows eternity like we never will (we never will)
Simplified infinity
the fountain of youth is cursed
Personally?
I forget what I was trying to say
Something about how I’mdone with this thing, this thing of being a strong healthy adult in the face of secondhand embarrassment and mixed emotions. I can’t write meaningful words on a 100 degree Red Line train in July.
