Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Windows

Jag skriver inga dikter till dig
Så gör man inte nu

Oh how spring makes the world look different. You feel the blood course quickly through your veins, and your cheeks flush with stolen moments in Union Square. Every day is a wild storm of giddy highs and terror clutching at your throat. You wake in the night with a toothache, but there is at least one moment every day when you are struck by how inexplicably happy you are that this is your life, and it makes every winter's day worth its despair. The gingko on Seventh Avenue is ready to burst, you already miss seeing it every day. Remind yourself that change is good, that the world is new and that you are young, yet. She says Think of the things you like and try to find them again, but you want to think of everything you've missed, instead, dive in head first and swim around in novelty until your fingers get pruny. May always made your skin burn with madness and that vagabond fever.

You decide to put your prescriptions away, let the disease rage through you.

Pray it reminds you what it is to stay alive.

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