I have a hard time
describing
what my childhood memories
feel like.

I think most my age
still recall their childhood
pretty clearly,
like photographs of various quality.

I feel as though
my memory cracks a little
every time my settings
are changed.

The first crack was graduation,
the flurry and fear of
finally
leaving home.

College became
a hazy blur;
it stings to look at it
directly.

Everything falls short,
I move again,
another crack forms
and I feel the pain.

Memories here
are strange and bittersweet;
The fog here is thick,
and I know I don't want to see.

In the present,
I just try to breathe;
but I feel so detached
from my memories.

Everything feels
so far away,
mirages in a shifting desert;
golden sea swirling with storms.

Thunder covers the
sound of me whimpering into my pillow.
The earth is crying too.

Fingers up,
grasping at bubbles;

Why do I always
fight for air?

I'm beginning to wonder
if I lost that magic touch;

These words used to come so easily,
to frame my dreams and nightmares

The paper used to beckon,
gleam like a beacon

While I was lost at sea, the words
would be the rope to pull me free

They gave me just a little bit of clarity,
until they faded away.

I reach and grasp,
maybe catch loose threads,

But it's never strong enough
to pull me to safety.

I miss the magic of words,
of creating invisible images.

It's just starting to feel like
my magic has faded.

There's this constant feeling
of relentlessly being dragged
through any number of things;

cold snow chokes my airways,

cold water fills my lungs

dirt dances on top of my eyes

and mud leaves its messy mark.

I can't cut loose, this attachment
is just life;
Time pulls and tugs and does not care
if you wish to stop here or there.

The untameable beast, taking bites
from our bodies
Pulls me forward and through
raging seas
It doesn't try to drown me,
just expects me survive
Even as I choke and gasp,
even as I beg and cry.

I wish to rest, just give me a breath–
the passage of time
will pass me by

Meanwhile,
where am I?

What do I say
when I haven't written in
so long?

Day by day,
everything just feels like
a thick fog–

Nothing is clear,
I can't see far ahead;
I've just been walking forward
to where?

So I just haven't been writing,
haven't been glowing, feeling
like I can exist.

I try to reach
that gleaming surface–
I never even knew I sank.

Never knew I was stuck here
in the cold again, wading
through another storm.

It's so quiet now,
settled into my soul like a routine;
Here we go again.

If I keep swimming,
I can't drown.

If I keep walking,
we'll make it eventually.

I wish it wasn't so cold.