April 30, 2015 § Leave a comment
Locked in, out–up. All the same. You can’t get out. Of what? Your head, job, room, gate, imagined images of self.
Locks everywhere. On chain linked fencing in reds and odd, even, single, double digits. Turn left. Right. Back past zero. Two times.
We need to free ourselves to feel alive. Why? It comes and goes: this feeling of escape. Running to somewhere where I can feel different.
It isn’t different. Stop.
Count to 5.
One, 2, 3, four. . .