There is no tangent to reel me in right now, no sparkle of hope. Only vapor.
I try to snort the droplets of dew through my nose, hoping for some kind of effect. Wanting to land in some cloud drift of marshmallow pillows. Like the fluffernutter sandwiches that gave me hope as I traveled from state to state, a torn up paper doll, conforming to each new identity I tried on and then ripping it off when I found it didn’t fit.
I don’t know who I am.
I don’t know what I want.
I just know I have lost sight again. I’ve fallen into the rabbit hole and nobody can pull me out except for myself. I look for signs, clues along the path. Some kind of nervous intensity. A fractured hope or two. I curl into a fractal ball, calling my energy to come back, come together in one solid form, but it evades me, sifting up and over some horizon. I can’t see past the trees in the swamp, crocodiles snapping at my feet. A venom has been injected into my blood, strapping me down so I cannot speak, can only seep bits of blood and bile into the cool dark mud. Bits that will be sift into the earth and lost come full moon. Is that what this is? The stars and planets are shifting slightly, but it feels like they’re catapulting. I lost my voice for seven months and now it is slowly coming back. So help me god I will never lose my voice again.
If there is anything I can do to take that 15 year old girl I was and wrap her up in warm blankets, take her to someplace safe…I wish I could. There is no way I can reach her, only channel her in stolen isotopes dripping with wax. No savor in this constant barrage of oncoming traffic god help us all, we are lost vixens, without a right to dream. Our dreams are medicated out of us and tossed onto the wind to weigh down the air with their sighs.
If I could bottle this need, this hunger for more, it would fill the molten center of the earth with adrenaline. It would coast over the oceans of the world. 70% 80% how much water are we? Equivalent to all the water in the sea? If we all pooled into water would the world be free? Why are we here if only to be pushed back by militant task forces, aimed at throwing us into the landfill where all struggling voices go to die.
There is no future. There is no past. Only today. I keep saying it. There is no future. Only today. Today is endless but it keeps running away, fraying at the edges, trying to tell me something I cannot translate. I wish I could just stop it, close the gate, tell the world that it’s all too late and we just need to jump ship. But we don’t. We just need to stop smelling piss in the carpet and move on past the chimney smoke. The answer is inside. Not in any book. Not in any word. Not in any thought. I seek a means to convey, but I only come up dry. And I wonder, when I am buried, will these words be obsolete? Will I find me? Will I ever fucking BE complete?