I am going in circles living my life over and over again because nothing changes and there seems to be blockage downstream– i cannot be a placid lake with churning currents under glassy surfaces.
we must function as the rivers we are, move along now.
I am desperate for a change in scenery and closing my blinds hoping for a different view in the morning, it’s not cutting it.
If I am leaving myself open to be bombarded by life, who’s driving the bus and why is Life late?
In the quiet I can only hear the coming ruckus, but the ruckus never comes.
We are muted and close to monochrome, I wanted to be a technicolor sonic boom today.
I don’t know where the chain is, the chain connected to the stopper in my drain because I need to tug my little heart out and sink down into something realistic;
something drastic something hopeful something like i’ve never known.
Where is my surprise when the world falls open and I am still here in this town, waiting and waiting for something to start?
I must be my own push, if I am stagnant and stale it is no one’s responsibility but my own.
Hear me today, doubt your doubts for just a moment:
It is not inaction that is killing me, it’s indecision. I know something needs to be done. I know something needs to change. I seem to go crazy once every summer because my patterns have long fingers to wrap around my neck and there is no air escaping.
I know something must be done but I am holding silence for a moment, too afraid to chance the drowning out of an inaudible answer. I am quiet and waiting for something to call me, I am waiting to be heartbroken and sure about where to go and who to be and what to do with the person that i am when i get there.
But it’s quiet, and I am still.
I am still, waiting.
I am still waiting