Hell and high water.
June 19, 2017 § Leave a comment
I came back to write. To clean. To feel at home. To feel something more. To keep pace and spill whatever it is that has become of me. To make a little room, clear a little space. Aim to rebuild. Maybe that’s life’s dirty little punchline. The older you get the further apart your moments become. The ones that remind you why you do this. Why you came here. Why you love these people. And you do – You still do; Time with them is still an tranquil island in stormy weather – But it isn’t cocaine. It isn’t blood dance. It just isn’t that whirling wind of passion and poetry that propped you up in your formative years.
It’s left me in a troubling bind. So made my choice. I made my decision.
Write everyday. See if you feel it. See Mexico again. Find out if this is it.