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spoken word...

An island above the city

Try to stay calm, breathing.
Don’t get caught up in feelings.
The messy, mess, mess of summer ‘23
Won’t stop finding me,
And lately things keep happening on Tuesdays.
It’s quite impossible to work people out.
Some people are a web of complexity.
And I think maybe I need to get out of this city. Just for a short while.
The book I’m reading keeps nonchalantly spindling into piercing darkness.
The narrator exposes himself in a quality of strange honesty.
It might not be something stark but it’s the casualness of the confessions,
He is completely unaware of being painted in a bad light or simply doesn’t care- I long to be this self-assured.

On this island I experience waves of euphoria but also an ache for reality.
Sea drips medicate my skin it buries scars.

Page 93 is a revelation.
Is the bluntness supposed to be humerus?

The thing about the city, when I’m up here is the music’s won’t stop playing and they layer over each other like some sort of messed up paradise.
While on my island a stream of people floats across the beach.

I feel a funny sense of freedom when I’m fed up almost like I could do anything.
Because I don’t care at all.
I pour out the emotions that are usually honed in.
I could purposely put myself in scary social situations or go somewhere alone.
Talk to anyone just to get it off my chest.
The heat of the moment can cause explosions.

It shocks me when I see a flicker of someone’s personality I don’t like.
And I feel conflicted when we have other moments that flow
And I ask myself
Does the high outweigh the low?

Memory attachment

I have such memory attachment issues.

I attach memories to everything.

It’s like a stupid ball of tangled up string that follows me everywhere I go.

I can’t listen to that album without thinking of that night - trying to ignore the association and enjoy it for its artistry.

But the lyrics tie themselves to moments.

And I can’t wear that combination of skirt and top without thinking of going to your apartment.

Living in the present seems impossible.

Space is a theme park

Space is a theme park .

Look beyond the Barriers and stare at the moon.

The rings of Saturn can be glided upon slided around to propel yourself to another planet of lunacy.

Another planet where the environment is entirely different.

Where you are used to dusty orange and humidity that makes you sluggish and pacy, Pluto is airy and somehow clear everything seems obvious here.
The decision that you have been contemplating for moons- now comes to you in a breathy second it is a fluid motion from the heart.
It was only ever this conclusion.

There’s something disturbing about astronauts. You can only ever seee reflections on the orb that protects their faces, refractions of the universe.
It’s hard to tell there is something living inside- some actual warm flesh.
Without expressions things become hard to read.
The suit is artificial and it speaks like an invader or an explorer.

It’s hard to come back to earth when you feel spaced out on the merry-go- round of the galaxy.

It’s now been 246 hours since I last spoke to you and I feel sea sick, like I’m sailing right off the face of the earth.

Unsure

Elastic people,
We collected our fears,
hung them on the wall.

Stranger danger
White hot veins
Kids behind bars
Stuck all over
Itching to leave
Beat up by thorns
Resistant to go
Ain’t faking it and nothing is for show
In a loop of Living vicariously.

Scratch my face
Push up my glasses
Pull my hair
Rip my nails
Until the moment passes.

It’s the caveman’s fault.
Fear spins everything into a Holt.
Decide Fight or flight.

I can think myself to fail,
I can think myself to succeed,
Toss the coin.