untitled

I cannot center myself. I was going to to write again about the lake and going there to read on a bench. But it seems dull and just more circles. All these circles, walking the lake, writing about it over and over again. Sitting in the chair and winding my eyes around over and over.

Besides, today the page spread out before me seems large and daunting. And I feel split, fractured, with all these people in the room. Especially after seeing so many faces that I know all at once, smiling. But knowing that there is something lurking in the midst. It is a definite feeling, powerful, and it makes me recoil. I didn't do anything to deserve it except be the person that I am. But sometimes the world is jealous and mad, or hurt. Mostly hurt and taking offense that it is something about them. And maybe it is on the surface. But the issue is complex. And requires a metaphor to explain it. Most likely many metaphors. All strung along like a game of pictionary.

And if it were men sitting in chairs looking out at flowing fields of wheat, they too would have worried looks on their faces, pangs of hurt running along their brows. That simple sun wouldn't save them. Not from people, and everything they can do to each other.

Not the metaphor, but instead just a painting on the wall in front of me. I'd rather not get the idea confused, its just me sitting in one of those chairs. Looking out with the blue sky and purple mountains. I just felt like transferring myself for a second away from reality. And it didn't help.

I wish I didn't feel so fractured and split.

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land ho'