It’s hot out. The kind of heat that wraps around you and pushes into your throat and your lungs and your eyes so that the only thing that feels like is still working is your heart. And I’m walking. Down a street I used to live on and used to live on before that and might come back to. Or maybe I won’t. At a time in my life where I’m going to find out if I’m worth anything at all. If I can figure anything out.
It’s hot but I’m not sweating from the heat or I’m not realizing that’s where it’s from. Or I’m not feeling it. And I can’t see if there are any cars coming and I walk into the road anyways to cross. So now I’m on the other side.
When you told me you wanted to see me again I didn’t believe you. I know eventually something will shift or snap and you’ll bite down and tear part of me off. I know I can’t know that.
If I turned around I could go back and
I’m walking to the library. It’s hot out. It’s time to see if you’ll make anything of this. And I’m sweating and I feel my own brain in my head and there must be something twisted or wrapped around it and if only I could get someone to loosen the knot or readjust. And I’m imagining myself completely enveloping myself into a state of not existing anymore. And I can feel my skin going inside out.
I want you. All of you and I wish I felt like that was okay. I know probably it is. I feel so stupid writing when I should be walking or working.
I’m passing by a lot of houses or apartments or stores. And they all have people. In them past or present or future tense. You seem to think of yourself as someone and maybe I own a different version of that. I keep thinking that way, own. “Mine”. It’s not true. If I stopped I could listen for a little and it would start raining and I wouldn’t feel so sweaty. It’s the walking that
And I still have a couple of blocks. To walk. And someone is waiting at the light with me. There’s some hellos (two) and she asks me, “What are you waiting for?” and I say “The light” and there’s cars going past. And she laughs at me in a way that hurts. But we’re going the same direction and she keeps running when the light changes. So many people, with their running. And I should have asked, “What’s your story? Who were you before this and who are you now.” And she would have laughed at me again.
There’s a field on the other side of the sidewalk. And I remember throwing up on that field and thinking I could have done better. And I don’t think I could’ve. And it’s so hot out and I feel my shoes sticking a little with each step. I feel you haunting me or pulling at me but the sun is out. I can tell because its. so hot. You really are better than me, that’s why I’m so far back. You you you.
I don’t remember sitting down but I feel grass in my hands. So I must be stopped, for a little. And it starts to rain,,,,,