at any one time

i am thinking about what's to come and all that could have been and was, about the way the night lifts up her silver skirt of stars to herald today, about well crafted standards and cerebral souvenirs, of the shapes a body makes during sleep.

i am thinking how beautifully the right angles, white, frame the view and the way so many people are so eager for everything now, about rules and niceties and language that would continue to come even if tongues were cut from mouths.

language in all it's ragged and impolite glory, in all shades of red and beautiful.

language - as though it were everything.

i am thinking about instinct and allegiances quietly pledged to the heart of green and blue and gold, thinking about the strength and fragility of the miracle of our bodies, about the way she knew it was time to go and wasn't scared.

i am thinking about breath and reconnection, of slipping less freely into costume and character concealing darknesses tucked in secret corners. about containment and contradiction, about the way your throat gets sore from everything caught there scratching to get out.

i am thinking about our failure to learn from history. of our failure as a whole to 'get it'.

i am thinking about the physical sensation of a body fighting for a life it's growing, about the magnetism of the deep shades. and of the reassurance of the push and grab and perpetual tides that come and come and come.