i used to rely on you for my memories. I am one thousand things at once. sometimes all the time. sometimes never. i miss the winter in the summer and the summer in the winter. how to practice presence when i want everything all the time? when the distance is blue, thats when i see you- and you open the palm of your hand. I once split apart the apple of my insides in one fell swoop and BAM there she was. all bloody and covered in sap. its a birth of self again and again wandering wildly into oblivion. Am i meant to be a lover? there are some scenes i cannot stand. I flail wildly and pick up the pieces. I drop them again, i pick them up, i rearrange, i pull the threads, i darn the holes, i patch the centers that hae worn, i toss and toss and toss and what was the center of it all? have i lost my plot for the sake of some love? some caring sweetness given honestly in my direction? what trick is this to be thrown into the fire and set to burn vividly without end.