it comes and goes,
this feeling that i’ve been ****** into a world rushing at a dangerous pace past my ears and i am here
alone
watching, helpless, as time disintegrates everything into particles of dust that lay down to die at my feet

do you remember learning how to use your limbs?
gawky in the glow of youth under bare trees and two foot snow,
catching snowflakes in your eyelashes and trying to prove that each one has a different pattern

nothing beats a minnesota winter when you’re young and full of wonder

now winter comes and the wind sighs through these bare branches on these bare trees and my chest aches in empathy
and the stark coldness is beautiful in a way that makes me immeasurably sad, like most beautiful things do,
and the quietness sings of a loneliness i find myself singing along to,
and i wonder where that child went, that one who saw winter and thought of joy and that one who saw the world and met it with innocence

time is a master in the art of deception; it’s made fools out of us all.

i stand still on this precipice of understanding as everything i have spins in circles around my head
and i am me me me me me me me even as time shapes and bends me into something else

we are all stripped bare, standing in front of the unfathomable infiniteness of the universe and begging it for some sort of revelation that will make the dark seem not so dark
i am terrified of loneliness; a walking, talking, convoluted fermi’s paradox: if i am not alone, why do i always feel like it?

someone asked me once whether i think we are in control of our own lives or if we are led by fate
i said i think we’re in control, but i don’t think that’s true, now
maybe time has laid out the birth and death and everything in between of the whole universe and we’re just along for the ride, living out a story that’s already been painted for us
or maybe this is really me, and not time itself, looking out and wondering if anybody’s there

maybe there are greater mysteries than this simple childlike plea for a feeling of companionship;
maybe i am still that child in winter after all.

we are our own destructors of everything we are and everything we have been and everything we will be and everything we hold onto

it took me years to realize everything is temporary
how long will it take me to believe it?