Every day is a stint at waking early, yet staying up till soft corners of the dawn show their edges.
My mind wanders in between the seconds and hours of late mornings and nighttime.
It travels across the people I know, weaving elaborate fantasies of how they can function in our shared dimension. And when I print it in sounds, it flies unseen and unheard, like if a firefly grazed amid swans.
It laughs in lockdown, staring at the TV. Crazed at the bottom of the jailing well, unraveling the walls brick by brick, lie after lie, to soar to the surface once more.
When at the surface, touched with dirt from along the journey, it ties every loose piece with the truth.
Another day is another picture, blurred by yesterday.
Where do I go now? In the absence of meantime, and the penitentiary of the earth’s possibilities.
Somewhere or someplace.
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