Decent.Maybe.

I just bought children's nighttime cough syrup because I took it twice at my parent's house to help me sleep and I had crazy fucked up dreams and I need excitement in my life.

Last night I had a dream that I had been preparing for an art show for months. Finally setup day had arrived. Some fellow artists and critics were gathered to help unpack and discuss the work. My ego waited with bated breath as I began to unveil my long awaited creative brain child. It was almost as if i were also seeing t for the first time. Tentative hands unboxed each piece to find kitschy store bought counterparts to the objects I had remembered creating. Hobby Lobby’s finest. None of them fit together and some still had price tags. Had I imagined all of it? No one showed immediate concern or surprise. This only made it worse.

Creativity is a trap.

[The longest winter in Muncie] I have great gratitude towards this midwest wasteland. I’ve bled my demons and gathered my spoils from it’s rich landscape of growth. But I’ve outgrown it. I’m stagnating. My roots run deep while my branches remain bare. I’ve been waiting for these fleeting moments toward the end when time speeds up and the mortality of a place in time glows on the horizon, unveiling a purpose behind each lingering experience. Even this long winter holds an urgency to enjoy it one last time. I’m leaving soon.

I’m not your fault.

Make friends. Make love. Make life. Repeat.

For a while at least.

but life’s a dream.

I will forever be the moon. A faint reminder of what she was to you. Pale in comparison to her vibrance. That hue could burn a hole through the atmosphere. So why am I here. Repeating cycles, just gathering reflections of her so that you can sleep through the night. Too many faces and none feel right. I’m phasing out. Even the stars in the distance are somebody’s forever love waiting to fade.

They’ve taught me how to frown.

Sent me to the loony bin to clip my wings and steal my voice, but all they did was help me realize that I always have a choice to sing, and I’m freer now in this moment then I will ever be again.

I think about it sometimes. That time two years ago when I didn’t hug you. That hesitant avoidance flickered across your face when our eyes met. It was clear to me then. So I liberated your worries, whatever foreseen obligation tormented your furrowed brow, glanced back down at my disheveled coat, and walked away.