I crouch around myself, the egg of myself, my light, trying to share but keeping hidden, deep hidden, well and woods and stone walls, cemented with you. I have told you. I have proclaimed. I have spat against the sky but you listen to nothing nothing. Perhaps it’s love; it just hurts more if it’s love. I want to be shaken free from this track but instead I grip and claw and cling and cling and cling and my nails are ripping free perhaps the stories lie perhaps I should let it all be. Let go let the wind haul me out and upward where is there to go?
Where is there to go? You know and I know there is everywhere and nothing and I with my words will build dreams and write. And write.