Sojourn

It's late. My thoughts are marbled, but clear. I'm over it. Checking out. Seems these dreams were filled with psilocybin weeds. But I'm beginning to see where I really am. There are better fish in the sea. So I'll unhook this old one that's been slithering for so long in these hands, and throw you into the small tank where you belong. I can already see your nacreous scales flickering like watercolored gems in the sun and then fading to black beneath the sinking depths. Like the idea of you and me. My world is widening now. I'm smarter now. Forget the stupidity and naivety of my youth.  I go back to the things I wrote and said, and I laugh. But I've been journaling since I was 6 years old and I've been through many laughable phases. Multi-faceted laughter. Hysterical, sad, embarrassed, nostalgic, angry, humored, joyful and traumatized laughter. Which face is it wearing this time? How did I not see this before. I've stood at this embankment for so long (years). I thought this water was crystal, but it is black and seething with regret. I saw the embankment falling apart, but allowed the murky waters to spill over and push me down. And I've been lying belly down in this stagnant puddle of a sea. But my mind has been too clouded by affections and metaphors and the preternatural of the fictional worlds in my head.

But I sense a scent like honey lingering in the adjacent valley. So I will fly there. Below the clouds where you will see me and lament. Forget invisibility. I am the snow capped mountain which erases the blood horizon, no longer the pebble wedged between two concrete slabs. I am here. But I am also gone. And my laughter will echo in the valley from which I first sojourned. And you will keep running after it,  hoping to find my wings protruding from the next corner.

"By tomorrow we'll be swimming with the fishes
Leave our troubles in the sand.
And when the sun comes up,
We'll be nothing but dust,
Just the outlines of our hands."