chasingtendrils:

maybe i should give myself more time
‘cause i don’t really know this girl
and what we’re doing
but maybe i don’t believe in timing anymore

i’m burned out of seeking clarity
so i’ll let these fuzzy lines tickle my feet
as i fumble for solid delineations
which may not be here and may never appear again

time is just a construct that organizes how i experience the sun and moon
sets up boxes and numbers my body struggles to accept
when i just wanna speak freely
and organize around my desires

“time” won’t make a comfort zone appear
and maybe i don’t want to be comfortable

I’m not quite sure if I had this conversation with you, but I recall a discussion, possibly a [personal] conversation within the confines of my head, on how I don’t exactly believe in timing.

For me, there exists these constants, things like the re/creation of space and of distance, the re/making of meaning, the re/establishment of a connection. Like I’ve mentioned in many spaces, I feel that it is the constant reimagination of the existence of my body and my soul on the grounds I choose to move across.

It’s whispering vulnerability in my ears. It’s a lot of bruising paired with resiliency, almost like survival. It’s a collection of imagination rolling on soft tongues. It’s silence as healing. It’s love when I’m breathing. It’s gone when I’m needing [it]. It’s here, and it’s staying. It’s my way of saying, “I am.”

Maybe it’s flawed, but the catalyst for this infinity started inside. Of course, I fear it. It has power. But I? I have struggle.