Thursday, July 7, 2016

calling me, calling me, as you fade to black



Stasis. That breathless sensation of waiting. For the other shoe to drop. For contact to resume. To be sure contact will never resume. Waiting to see if I've become another chapter in the ongoing legend, instead of my own person, with my own flaws and reasons.

Stasis. Waiting. The fearful dread, watching the horizon. Watching the skies. Planes or pianos, what will it be this time?

Stasis. Clinging to what is, trying to release what was, and waiting to see what will be. Dark anticipation, hopeful cynicism, eventual reaching for recovery. Finding all the pins beneath the skin, learning which ones to pull out and which to leave in. The waiting. The waiting. The horrid waiting.


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