The season rolled in over me, kind of caught me by surprise. I like that at least right now there is a feeling of shedding skin. I don’t look at the haze that was in the foreground. It’s shallow. It’s unbecoming. I’ll let that disaster find its way somewhere else.
I will never understand the hearts that can’t portray easy math. Go fast and go fucking far. If spray painting it across your forehead will not aid you in anything than I guess everything really is lost. It is the falling over and over again, even myself finding and attempting to retell myself lines of the written past. Wanting to figure out where I leaped when I should have walked, swam where I should have dove, broke when I should have been strong.
There comes a dawn when you will have to find the path that is distant from it all, and you will have to unravel things that once kept you driven inside of your salted sanity. The moments that were once warm, they just became too brittle. You would think it comes easier after time, and sometimes it does. Eventually you see it just kind of slips through the parts that you sew up.
This month took me to an island. Like rain hitting the pane. A drop of strawberry jam that has fallen into a tall glass of milk. It’s a soft rope, that binds but is very delicately placed and tied. I enjoy this comfort, I enjoy being able to feel everything shower over. I drown in the deep blue where it’s quiet and safe. As an artist I anxiously find adventure pouring methodically into this new chapter. It’s telling and penetrating. The ferocity in it all pulls like an undertow, unyielding to the fierce and only allowing moments to breathe. I take all of those moments in as I can.