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.