I'm here. I don't know where that is, anymore. I don't know what that means, anymore: I'm here.
There's a thread snaking through all of this. A sneaky, snaky thread. Curving and weaving and making a mockery of congruence and pattern. A thread.
My head - did it ever feel different? Alive? Awake? Refreshed? Did I really use to wake up and jump out of bed with a clear, living head?
My thoughts. My thoughts have evolved, de-volved, mutated and transmogrified. My thoughts do the thinking for me now. I often wonder how all of that is going to turn out.
The problem with my heart is two-fold: Physicality and symbolism. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but the physical always trumps the symbolic.
The life force owes me one. Not really, but it would be nice. I'd collect with a smile and a nod. I'd extol its virtues, if it came through for me. Just this once.
Tried and true, feigned and solid, in theory and in the hand, pervasive and non-existent, extemporaneous and in the pocket... Stop me when I've gone too far. Stop me, if you can.
I agonize, I obsess, I procrastinate and let it slide. Tomorrow is a good time to perform certain tasks. If life weren't so demanding, maybe I'd accomplish something. Maybe I already have.
I'm there. If I don't know where "here" is, I'm surely fuzzy on the concept of "there." It doesn't matter, anyway. It's all a dream.
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