i hear your voice echoing sunlight through my head,
and i’ve been so uninspired lately -
not uninspired in a gray waves through the sky kind of way,
but where the waves hold a slight teal tint as they carry me
through time and whisper that change is coming,
that change is okay. and it’s not entirely fair
that i feel compelled to start every sentence in the middle,
or that every story i tell doesn’t seem to end,
but instead just trails off and twists through my fingers as i try to grasp it
but end up simply watching it float out the window
as i start to see a fan spinning on the ceiling then remember
i’m not home, or telling myself i’ll be better when i’m home
but realizing i’m already there,
and that all i can do is just fall asleep.
if only you or i knew
what was happening inside, in the world -
what we dreamt about or how we’re always mindlessly
throwing ourselves away or shooting expensive thoughts
into an open conversation, hoping someone will pick up
exactly what it is we need although we never let anyone know.
and i’ve been so uninspired lately -
but in a way where my fingers just can’t seem
to speak fast enough or are trying so hard to go slower.
so i shoot up from rest, still half stuck in a fantasy,
and i’m spilling out all over the bed, with no one
or no sounds to stitch me back up to how i was before,
but i’m not afraid and i’m not ashamed
to have someone knock and think i said “come in,”
then enter to see notebooks and pens scattered across the floor
with nothing on them but exclamation points
and cross hatches through the question marks.
because i’ve been breathing again, breathing into something,
and i’m trying to make this mayhem form into something
like the orchestra before a performance
behaving wildly out of key with everyone in separate corners
before we all come back to meet each other once again
and provide ourselves with that half a second of silence
before the sun rises over the crowd.