on Security

Such pretty distraction, such simple deceit. Washing the land with blossom and sunlight, making the beer taste just a little better at the outdoor tables, spreading smiles and wiping the tired from long-sleeping eyes. How easily we are swayed, how quickly all those questions and that weary dread are swept under the carpet, you are distracted, you relent. It is too inviting, your days of darkness too many, the break too welcome.

But for a minute, when the blinds are down, when the piano keys tremble like autumn storms, I remember. The dreams I once had, the boiling blood that rushed through my veins and made me run across the lands in excited fever, the words that built up in me and begged to be written. For a short instant, I glimpse that person I thought I was but whom I so easily abandoned.

The vision leaves me panting on the floor, gasping for air, trying to hold on to something, anything, to keep from falling. This is no life. The money, the apartment, the stocked pantry and vacation plans. They don't mean anything to me. They let me sleep soundly at night, but I don't want to sleep.

I want to live.