Take a Tumble

Grounding myself on elbows meeting the abrasive road where my six inch stilettos gave up, I am left with a red trophy that will mar my ribs for weeks. Inside I swirl around a mirror, myself, my hair let loose, my tears crawling as gravity desires and I shout the profanities from ex lovers’ mouths against the slick pool of glass. Another day ready for bed and dreams and bourbon as a pungent precursor to those delightful retreats.

My verdant life is magnified by grey skies, storms without gusts and gales, no thunder because there is no lightning. My sad eyes, dull with sleeplessness and apathy sit sullen in a face riddled with emotions I hide from the very people who would comfort them.

“I am sad.”
“It's okay.”

Keeping time with my heart, my breath, the rain on the roof; my mind knows remedies for everything save the crippling passivity in which it is mired. I am still in this void of myself, suspended in an abyss of marketing, political, religion fueled confusion.

“I am.”
“It’s okay.”

My bare skin hits and grinds on cement, keeps pace with my heart, my breath, the rain. A familiar burn in my lungs sends a smoke signal drifting slowly into the thin-aired heights of my misguided logic.

“I am okay.”
“Yes.”

My hair falls weak and wet against my brow, my clothes mat with dense wetness, my senses exalt in a moment of being.

“I am.”
“Yes!”

No fears. No confusion. Blood that travelled before thoughts and ire crowded my veins rushes in torrents as it did years ago to find a place of simple understandings as my legs carry me, ever faithfully as they do, through wars, to peace.