Count to three…

And take a step. Don’t forget to breathe.

Pounding the pavement at all hours of the night ’til I reach the crashing sounds of the lake. Standing still and watching the water, pretending I don’t want to see what happens, were I to just walk on in.

Wavering like a willow in the breeze, strangely sedentary and sedate — the concrete slab of thought weighing heavily now upon my sloping shoulders; I count the seconds and then the hours, wonder once if I oughtn’t to be sleeping. Sleeping through necessity. Slumbering through this anti-idea.

I can see my reflection in the dullness of the night: my aching bones shadow past selves and personalities; my pout mouths back at me hoarsely, “you are not what you seem.”

Turn tail and slither back again, toward the comfort of a dimmer homeglow. This too, shall pass. I will forever be a gatekeeper.


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