Coming to terms with hard unfinished things by buying soft furnishings. Somewhere in the wings, she’s waiting til she sings. All bravado, all flare. Then it goes, like it went before and her heart is as heavy as her throat is sore and her mind just skips and she can’t even scream because it was probably just another of her vain little dreams.
Coming to terms with cushions like candles like curtain like colour. But this time when she flies she won’t find any cover. It’s all just dressing, of make up of sham. Clutched deep in her soul and out of her hands. All sadness, all bare.Then it’s coming, like it hasn’t before and her head is begging and her heart breaks more and she can’t act the fool or take to the stage because it’s not about her and she’s no longer that age.
Coming to terms with whatever comes next. The keyboard conquerer spies useless gadgets. Of perfectly functional, practical sense with all time consuming tomes so completely dense. Order one or more or sit on your fence. All fear and resilience.
I know now why they say “that was the worst day of my life”. It is just the realisation. It is having the familiar path suddenly widening or narrowing and the realisation that you are going to walk a way you’ve yet to walk and you’re scared. Whatever happens, you know your feet will do their duty, but it’s that moment of realisation, that they won’t have a choice. There is no backward. Even if you turn wholly around and recount everything that happened before, you still have to move forward. Does it help, looking back? Not really. That’s when you stumble most. Better to turn around, face it head-on, feet-forward and hopefully the worst day is already gone.
The idea is to keep adding and adding.. just slowly of course as you stir and stir. Round you go again. Same old pot, same old circle, same old treadmill of days and events….until you realise you aren’t liquid anymore.. you’ve thickened.
All those fluid ideas you had, have slowed into glug and you suspect your days of sleeveless freedom are to be covered over and hidden from those young upstarts still dancing around in pretty circles or racing the circuit as if they can win. But give them time too, time, warmth, maybe a family and a job, maybe a house and a constant supply of delicious treats and then before they realise it, they will have thickened too.
I’d like to think this is a thickening of mind as well as body. It is a dulling down of everything that once shone so bright. Everything is that much heavier and slower that at times, it is like you were never quick witted and the fast pace of the world, is almost too much to bear. Thoughts are slower, words slower slower slower still.. until
I can feel like a stranger in my own world. I can see it and hear it all I think, but it’s all a bit muffled like I’m on the edge of a dream about to fall off into oblivion.
That’s why God invented mosquitoes.. so I’d have a need to slap myself every so often.