This morning, hearing music on a radio someplace that was warm, spacious, and mellow with female vocals, I immediately began going someplace. Someplace fantastic and romantic. Infectious and affectionate.
Then I stopped it! I rejected it! I shunned it! This is not my place and won't be for a long time. The taste, sweet at first, then bitter. Because, you see, I am completely shattered. I am busted and broken.
Yet in this mess is cohesion. In the distance of the parts is the remaking. Despecialization! The shattered, like a collection of blastemas with a shared objective. I am re-becomming what I feel I should always have been. No longer shackled with longing and the layers of filters that constricted my heart. No longer anchored by fallen flyers or my own desire to lift up.
What falls of it's own volition, falls, never to return again.
But what get's up, climbs higher then the previous try.
I am broken. Augmented with rage, controlled with precision, and screaming in the blackness. Running towards the soon coming time of spirited motion through the long dark of discipline. Temporal perhaps, I am, but of an intent that is crushing. Bristling with electricity and sensitive to the touch.