In dreams I am falling downward in an endless spiral. It is early morning and I am dizzy when I wake up. I am immediately full of thoughts, ideas, fears, and anxieties. It’s incredible how quickly they take hold the second i am conscious. There is truly no relief.
This little room stacked high every which way with books upon books upon books. I can’t get into a single one. I try. I flip through, I skim the words. But nothing sticks. I find a spiritual type text which encourages me to stay grounded in reality when my head is full of dangerous fantasies and I wonder why on earth anyone would think that is good advice.
How is one to remain grounded when the ground beneath us is poisoned and shifting all the goddamn time. You can stand up on a thing one day and the next day it is ancient history. If you cannot fantasize you cannot possibly be in touch with your entire self. The soul is not of this world but suffers through it for the sake of the body and mind. Beauty cannot be tolerated unless it is soaked wet through and through with melancholy.
I cannot understand why this world encourages the quiet to speak up and speak more loudly. Leave the quiet alone for fuck sake. Better still if more of the loud would learn to quiet down. Everybody wants to be so important to the masses but inside they mean nothing at all to themselves.
Yesterday I sat alone sipping coffee and staring out the window onto the street. As I watched a collection of black birds circle and swoop in one large formation, I noticed a row of completely naked trees standing far off across the field. All around them stood much taller trees all bursting in oranges, crimsons, and fire.
Do we rush through the colors to get to the skin. Is the skin worth the ache which tugs at the bones. When it’s time to burn it all to the ground and begin again from nothing but dirt and dried brush, will we know it. Will the air take on the scent of smoke, rot, and rain. Will we notice the way it is changing us.