the breakdown on return, what’s missing? there’s something twisting inside you, tadpoles of distraction, and a cloudy waterfall melting my breath away. the words grow in my mouth, thorn-like and uncomfortable. I reread notebooks, but the excitement of indecision, the unexplored, has turned stale like long-worn bed sheets.
what else is there?
I reconstruct dreams, walking backwards. I close my eyes deep down a turquoise whale tank, folds of water lifting me above ground. across the road screen waves bathe someone in dried-up flickers of light all day, all night. continuous distractions, the hypnotic unknown.