((
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Crank it up.
And I can feel myself become weightless.
My legs know the movements, my head realizes the vertices on which I can twist and suspend my figure in moment for a moment.
Yet my back realized its limitations, and keeps me from flowing to and fro in my house.
Eins would not approve.
Yet I feel a gliding feeling deep withing my sternum, growing and flowing and glowing.
I get off.
There is a passion hidden in the hearth that cannot be explained with simple words in simple times by simple minds.
The feeling of companionship as you glide over the surface almost like ice, heel to toe, I will forever remember that day we crashed and burned and got back up yet to do it again, swinging in the lift to catch that perfect rail, to accomplish what keeps us young, to completely hate our bodies enough to suffer and enjoy.
Jason, thank you. It'll be the best we've ever known.
And the snow falls, cutting communication. I always knew it made everything silent, serene, and ultimately beautiful in the silence very few can achieve. Muffling the cars from the freeway, letting us walk in peace and solidarity, observing the beauty that we never experience when the air is clear and dry and the sounds come vaulting over the boundaries. But I want a certain voice to speak out to me, to call, to fill my mind and shake the rules I have identified for myself.
Snow, the curse and blessing of my winter.
To my sister, tribulations may pop up here and there, we may run and laugh and glide and slide and complain about the bruises we receive, but I am truly glad of the things we share, and the times we laugh and carry on. Don't forget, even the small things matter. Cry as you need, but remember tomorrow comes, as does a completely new person.
I'm staring at my reflection on my glass topped desk, and I must say, I am not pleased with what I see. It is not as I have wanted, as I once was, prime and peak, the capabilities of many men. I frown, and I can see it not only in the hell bound curves of my mouth, but in my eyes. A stillness that does not tolerate weakness. Perhaps that's not a bad thing but the weakness it does no longer tolerate is my own.
Poetic, is it not? I have been accused of many things, but nothing else has hurt so much.
I saw a girl, laughing and smiling in New York, and I have only told one other person about it till now.
She was about seven or eight, as happy as can be with one hand firmly in her father's grasp, the other gingerly balanced within the palm of her mother's. It was a sensation I felt. A child, pure innocence and outlook for a bright future. Yet as I told that one person, I couldn't help but wonder: Who's going to fuck your life up darling? Who's going to change you? How hard? And how badly? And after the change, how happy will you be for the future? And in the end, when your head is held high, what will you think back upon? I hope you envision that city, so bright and large and crowded and
loving. Forced in together, you have no choice but to attempt to survive.
Do so, for your sake and the future of your lineage.
Yet I call out to the path of my own. And what I see before me is desolate.
But I am not clairvoyant. I possess not the ability to see the circumstances which will lead to my rise/downfall. And I don't want to. It's much more interesting to see exactly how things play out in real time.
I see my reflection and I smile, genuinely.
First time in a long time.
And I owe it all to.
Ain't that just a bitch?
Bwahahahahahahaha.
I am as weightless now as I have ever been, and I ride the currents of YOUR thoughts. Yours.
