floating nomad

what happened to floating? what happened to simply bouncing around? what happened to intuition as guide? why are we just standing here?

let's get back to it. back to the great vibe. i'll see you where i happen to be. bouncing along these whims. and floating on the wind.

say what you will, but your walls are so square. i'm going to try triangles for now.

see you on the course.
four!

where am i going and now, how quickly?

don't let it be just like last time

dripping from the patio frame

my skin is cracked of winter
but my soul is in new spring
i think the big thaw is beginning.
i'm melting.

i'm thinking of beginning again.

this isn't the last time i don't know what i'm saying

i make and i break and i take and for goodness sake, or sometimes for some other sake altogether. i've got a million things to feel guilty about and a million things to feel good about, and sometimes i just feel nothing or less than nothing or more and i can't tell you anything about it, and it's not even like i want to. i'm trying not to judge you and i'm trying not to judge me, but instead i just judge me judging you and walk off this bridge or follow you down or watch you fall. or shake my head. or wave. and pretend i'm not relieved you're gone.

i can't tell anymore. but i will again. and over again, this whole thing. fading and intensifying as the colours allow.

and then i'll tell you all the same things over again. but you'll have forgotten it all by the time i've said it again. or you weren't even listening the first time. or i didn't even know what i was saying.

all of our goings on

i'm just sitting here. staring at whatever happens to be around me. taken, if only a little bit, by the colour, a wave of other emotions that i cannot even put my finger on, and then a hundred million billion other things. and taken, in a much more crucial way by make-or-break-mes and serious mental getalongs.

man, this life.

man. with each our own crises.
this life. man.

it's all so ridiculous, a little bit. that we're all just walking around in these heads. i can't even make sense of what i'm going through. i can't even begin to imagine i can make sense of your goings through it.

it turns out i don't really need to.


i will weep for you when appropriate.
i make a very good set of ears.

perhaps we could make a game of it.