Trembling hands

i'm curled up in the corner of the sinked-in cane couch in the back room of the dream cave. how lucky i am to have a little plastic vine stroking the top of my head (it's ok it's just the cave saying 'i love u, little human'). how lucky i am to be already in a state of constant unpredictable buzz, to never need to agree to pills or anything like that. i have already sacrificed control over my head to my heart and i used to so sing proudly about it but now it's been two years and i still run 10 treadmill-kilometres away from last nights' endeavours. you guys shake your heads at the comedown like it's a hill you climbed up that you gotta climb down. sometimes i feel like i'm running down the same hill you know, so fast like a little kid, so fast so my legs become like magnets to the ground gathering speed as i go. i leave you suckers in my wake, then i meet you halfway back up again before you reach the summit without me.  

you guys shine and giggle and i'm a funny taylor swift song mother sitting in on something so close but so unfamiliar. i wonder what it must be like to know for sure that feeling something is not knowing it. i wonder what it must be like to run only for pleasures' sake, like on that episode of friends where phoebe runs like a little kid through central park because that's the only way it's any fun. i love to run but i dream of the day i don't think about it. 

i sing loudly and defiantly to the pop songs on the radio when i'm driving home from singing to all of you guys about all this stuff. i worry a lot about not much but i do not worry about you knowing all this stupid shit, 'cause i know it's stupid. my little cartoon heart clears its throat and taps me on the shoulder to disagree but i know, i know it's dumb to worry about such things. it took me too long to learn but i did it and i'm proud. 

(i listen to 'running up that hill' and i try to do it too)

photos by my lewis