Wind, pushing the back of my coat, forcing my collar up against the back of my neck. I am staring at wet black stones, geometric lines leading forever up, up into more lines into more steps into similar spots. But I am thinking of red dust in far off distances lost to the future. And I am sad. My heart dips low tonight because it feels abstract and strange— lost in so many lights glowing in wet slickness. All is stone and silence and I am here, bounded by no things, but all things. Floundering in fabricated facades of functions and understandings that have been filled to the brim and tipped into the gutter and I am left, hollow, silent, looking onto, what? The future? No. Here, now, me. Just, me. And I cannot place this desolation but it hangs low on my insides tonight. It is a simple statement, smothering me in its transparency. I am,
disappointed
in
myself.
I have let myself
down.
I have let my family
down.
I am a vessel of
sad
normalcy.
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