i’m sleeping in different places all the time now. my 4 walls have come off as restricting as of late, suffocating even. it’s not their fault. together, they reserve this cube for me to come back to. but in this exact cube is where my anxiety scatters through the atmosphere. like smoke trapped in a jar, it will take the form of its container, but it’ll escape the moment it’s given the chance.
i’m in a casual relationship with reality. i put a match to my skin. i put myself through fire just to feel a glimpse of warmth. i write pages of non sense in a dark motel parking lot. i sneak into mansions. i drive from border to border – flat land becomes mountains, yellow becomes green, the sky opens. “describe it to me,” you said, “tell me the colors of the sky.” but you’re just as strong as the sun – i can’t avoid you but i can’t look directly at you. i guess some of us want closeness but some of us fear it. i’m realizing i’m the latter.
Photos by Cachet