ad meliora

I feel like I should be writing this drunk, that maybe my fingers could find the right keys better, that I could tap into some muscle memory I stumbled over drinking at 5 AM years ago but I am incredibly sober, and I have been now for several days, I go do the things I have to do and I wake up on time, and I even have lunchmeat in the fridge but I still might be able to get it across because I think you know the heavy and unbearable weight, I think you know the middles lifted out of the days I think you know the wasteland and the way they pick the meat off of scavengers, I think you remember the lips and eyes and hips of long gone lovers and the feeling of being locked out on your back in your room when the pages of the books that once made you feel strong, feel thin and weak between desperate fingers and it’s enough to stop your heart right in its tracks, it’s enough to make you run your palm along the plastic of the phone remembering the overload of a kiss at 19 and sparks floating down from the sky somehow on some major holiday

and you feel ok,