October carries on in gray clouds across the weeks, dragging us slowly into the season like no one really has the energy anymore to worry about if the sun is shining. It's been years since the sun shone, for some, what's the point in waiting around. A million deadlines wake me from my sleep and I think we knew we'd look bad with a melancholy fondness to some of those despairing days, and here we are. Anxiety runs rampant through my veins and I can't catch it, can't draw it out of the speeding blood. She writes to say he's become a millionaire selling NFTs and you cannot begin to process the twists and turns of this world. Is this why people pick up and move into the woods.
A lone morning glory blossoms on the fire escape, while the jungle of vines that went before it starts to wither. Is it worth any less for its late bloom? Or, perhaps, any more?
The day stretches out ahead of me in a panic.
I don't have the answers, yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment