And as the competition comes my thoughts dwindle

Everything feels so small here in comparison. I have no room to breathe, no space or air. It’s all confinement intertwined with exceptional peace. Sit still. Get up. Move on, move forward, and forget peace.

My sociopath tendencies to remove whatever object comes in my way without regard for anything but my own heart

This is the part where you laugh to yourself

And this is where I remember the cascading sideways glances I’ve stolen from time to memorize the shapes of you. So in some small shadow that forms itself outside any window I ever see again, I’ll be reminded again, and can smile.

You may not know the fortitude. You may not recall the day. The day when shape becomes form and form becomes remedy. But I do. And static generates between my mouth and my mind to where I can no longer speak in words or vowels or letters beyond anything but that same smile. Upturned lips, pressed heavy on hips and in between spaces of skin where the marks of anything, the marks of any. Thing. Mean nothing anymore. And it’s just breath.

And we could come up empty handed or flushing spades to 5^th street at any given second, but I’d stake claim on the land you’ve chosen. A flag perched into empty soil, to grow and build so often these wooded hiding places. But you would never know it, to look.

I would crawl aimlessly through any amount of obstacles one could muster, to paint plastic little stones in the shape of hardship. A drastic and empty gesture all at once. Until the sun melts and melds it all together into something you or I or we or they could make sense of. Or not.

It seems blister-esque these moments. An increase of protection. That’s all a blister is. Protection of wounds with intent to heal. Soft pleasant beds of white blood cells fighting to see who can out run the other, for medals or glory – who knows. But they fight without meaning. Just instinct to the end. To the very stupid end.