Filling in the gaps

Springtime falls, summer calls, you slip and slide until you hit December.
Believe my eyes, they'll bleed you dry. If I was an ingenious, I'd lose my temper.

Even though my shoes were muddy I decided to keep on walking and found myself exactly where I was meant to be. I kept thinking about the way cicadias disguise themselves as machine whirrs, much like those in my head. And I could think of anything after that, except for the billowing, puffy white clouds and how I had so much ahead of me. And then I was home and back to the colours and the rotting beer and the alone. Nothing here is empty, but we are light as air.

I decided then, that silence would be my cue to take off my shoes, all covered in dirt, and smoke away the pain in my back and the noise of the cars outside the window so I did. And it’s been hours now since I last thought I was late or had forgotten what I was supposed to remember and writing lists of things I was supposed to do. It feels like it’s been hours since the rest of my life and that hours are before me. I feel surrounded by time that will always be out of reach.

I guess the long and short of it is that I’m just a small person trying to feel tall. I want to touch the top of this house and be like one of those pidgeons without a home, or any past and certainly no future except gluttony and ambivilance and just fly away. One ugly wing stroke after another.

And now, the popcorn.