Wednesday, May 23, 2012

How

Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm fading away, one day I'll wake up and it will just be that gray between day and night, that hovering of everything between all day, every day in my head will never go on again to give me those brief moments of something else.

Or maybe I'm just exhausted, I mean I know I'm exhausted and I need to get back in bed, even though I hate getting back in bed, but then I can get up and think about that hovering, blinking of eyes, softness yes softness and not the harshness of stomach tension pushing my insides out, my insides in, not the harshness of the crash but the softness of the glide. Sometimes I wonder how much more I need to keep cutting out of my life in order not to fall away, how much I keep falling away, how much my life and what? What will I remember, and what will I forget. And what will I use a question mark for. And what will I question.

And what will I think of desire. And what will I think. And what will I desire. And what will I imagine. And will I imagine desire. And what will I think of this imagination. And what will I think of this.

And what will I grasp. And what will I hold. And what will help. And who will I know. And who will I help. And who will I hold. And who will I grasp.

And what will I hope. And what will I hope to grasp. And what will hold hope. And who will hold. And how will I hold hope.

Sometimes even thoughts I lose, lose so fast like one minute there's everything I will ever need right there in my head and then there's nothing I can even grasp. Nothing I can even hope. Sometimes I grasp and grasp anyway and fail to, yes mostly fail to, yes mostly, lately as it seems my health gets worse and worse and this is where I'm afraid I will fade away.

I'm afraid I will forget what it means to forget. To remember. I'm afraid I will forget to use a question mark for hope. Forget to. Don't say it. I'm afraid I will question, and I will mark, and I will lose. And I'm afraid.

And what will I hope. And what will I hope to grasp. And what I am afraid of.

I'm afraid of what I think of desire. I'm afraid of what I think. I'm afraid of what I desire. I don't even know why I'm talking about desire, when what I mean is everything that I want. To imagine. To help, cannot help. Of what I grasp. And who will know, me. I'm afraid I'll forget how.

4 comments:

Lady J said...

What is it that you're cutting out of your life? And what is it that would make you feel the way you want to feel?

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

Lady J, thanks for the questions, but this one I prefer to leave vague...

Love--
mattilda

Lady J said...

Sorry for the intrusion.

mattilda bernstein sycamore said...

No-- not an intrusion at all...

Love--
mattilda