Wind is blowing like storms around me, all the time. I have this passion, this desire, these dreams and these hopes that I can’t/wont’/don’t want to let go of. I know where/why I’ve happened upon them. I don’t think the roads/paths/thoroughfares to them were any good. I’m the first to admit this. But, the places they’ve taken me I can’t say I despise. Not yet, anyway.

I look back from time to time over pages and pictures, over images and concepts. And I know the vision of myself from then is flawed/bad/off/just shy of the mark. I have a hard time coalescing this with my current emotion/mood/position. I always feel like I am better/worse than I am.

I am extremely conflicted/intentioned/motivated.
I have a lot of secrets/goals/justifications.
I’m on my way somewhere/nowhere even if its just the same as here.

I run/stay/fight/relinquish because I hate the sameness/dissonance of the situations I find myself in.
I admit this before you get too close/comfortable/scared/annoyed.
I admit this so you/I already know. This moment/life/dream/hope is never going to work/last/change/stay the same.

We are spinning wheels on a merry-go-round that brings up back and back and back to all the same places that we’ve left. Nothing/Everything changes. Up and down/back and forth — we move in the same directions for eternity because these are the only things we three dimensional beings know.

If we could fold ourselves up into ribbons of vibrations, I wonder at what worlds/creatures/lives/lights we’d see. I wonder at what voices/sounds/music we’d hear. I wonder what it’d change.

Nothing, I suspect. But, I could be entirely wrong.
These are guesses from a vast imagination that doesn’t/won’t exactly take on reality full-faced. So, take this for what you will. I’m a manipulator/liar/storyteller, and I know who my audience is.

So I think.


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