4:25

I have many minds.

I feel that sanity is split into two shores with an ocean in the middle, where I rock and glide on the waves that look like lucid icebergs but never touch my palms to the sand. 

I bring myself back to reality, back to my real life and all I feel in the morning while in bed after hours with friends and wine is my broken heart and loneliness, not only in my own body, but filling the room all the way up to the wooden beams and fans that are no different than me, that came from the same ground. I touch the dirt, I touch silk, I touch hair and knives and computer keys and holy books and I know it all through the sensation of an absolutely broken heart, which is not sadness or anger or depression, but eyes that are being cracked like eggs, losing their shells, coming back to their reality of malleable, sensitive organs.

The color of spring was too much before I fell asleep and all I could see was the brightness of green, the thick grass, the ivory-diluted-blue sky. Color is stimulating and I feel it around the letters I put on paper and I know that I am nothing -- human -- but I am also everything and I have no sense of god but myself and all that is around me, all of which is boring and ordinary. I think my cat's fur is metaphysical because we were next to each other one night and I was amazed that two different species with varied bodies and ideas of normalcy that grew on separate forks of the evolutionary branch in our milky fingered galaxy came to be resting on the same blanket, loving one another, sharing air and water. However, there is nothing more common in our culture: I paid money to adopt her from a shelter while in college and I am imprinted as her mother. That does not our meeting any less remarkable. Sometimes I feel that I need no other god but the simple, glorious intoxication of reality.

I am inundated with paradox:

I am full of enthusiasm for life and laughter, but sometimes the water feels like suicide.

I am alone, but found in everyone.

There is no sense of "I" but the thoughts and words keep coming, the desires, wishes, and fantasies.






I am driven, but I do not know towards what; I want to give you something, You, with your varied luminous faces and hands that I know I will love once we touch.