laying low on the half broken treadmill, constantly fleeting, moving away from the moments. where do we go next, a question hovering over all i know, but when i raise my eyes from my hands and look around, it's all beautiful faces, and i cling on to them. lay low. the little sunlight of the day sends energy through pretty colours, hail and vibrations of the nervous kind, as i lie and wait for the buzz. phone laying low. eyes are huge, hands tiny, air cold, mind blank. i'm swimming through waves and dives and storms, for now just to get to anything, for a moment to breathe. even weakened from weeks and months and years of just keeping my head over water, i am trying just to get to my arm wrestling challenge with the person on the other side

the bleurgh middle of the week night feels of cool, illustrated sounds making me wonder where they all are, and what they're laughing about, the sirens of the faraway joys, far far tucked away in frowny yesterdays. pretty words added as an afterthought to hide away the petty thoughts of quick judgment and all that's playing in my head is a beat, the one that makes my shoulder blades slowly dig into each other, like tectonic plates, charging for an earthquake. rattle rattle click and break, simple words in a familiar language reminding me of loving eyes because in the end that's what we all crawl towards, despite the daily runs and rolls and hoops, i see it all through my tornado-stained glass

i miss the chills, and the freedom in which the head could lay to rest; the cool air cleaning out the ashes from the bones. fragile, fleeting, faraway visions of wide open time. in the midst of it a cloud of dreams in disarray, and the sun shining through it with golden magic, and the last ones in line raise their arms and burst out in trumpeting hurrahs across the ever-changing, peaceful universe

locking myself in under the covers feels liberating, as the universe unfolds within, and the world feels desperate as it always does. scraping off the luxury leftovers off the keyboards of my mind institutions, my fingertips leave smudges on the glassy quick dry top coat lenses. closing my eyes into blindness to feel the edges of this golden cage, gold to display the glossy shimmer of millennial promises, as i puke out free flowing loss after loss into the wide open space. hidden away from the rain, i call out to the sun to shine brighter until the tired, tough flesh burns up in a beautiful, shining little explosion, and we can all hold hands as we watch in awe