3am // 2014 / Jan

it starts at the beginning. a shiny search trampling the ground. the fastest speeds. forward hands. the unknown tips of heated thought, surging through the sun and winning over the seas.

i’m unaccounted for there. lost and polite. glad. in a mist of my own breath. hints of fall and a breeze. dancing in rains. sacred skin.

i garnered all of my loves into one place at dawn. the flying of pages swirling me to a sound sleep. not afraid of the cold mornings. filling the space with a fantasy of the real. breakfast plates and toast of rye. jams and tea. small butter knives.

why does everything now feel so burdensome?

the swinging of your watch just taking away. the desire for sleep filling an hour. the now of tomorrow just pretending to leave. back to yesterday.

i understand the oneness. i know of unity. but atoms only know the distance of space.

i’ve turned into the child i never wanted to be. tunnels of echoes. journeys of trails just leading in line. patterned paths made by man. shoes of the latest trade. repeated steps. over and over and once and again.

when did the mirrors begin to crack? lines defining their cause.

when did i become the prominent parade of ghosts and before?
the lining of a shadow i’ve never seen?


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