Blast from the past II

I’m circling something. Closing in. I just have to find what is at the center. Reading back entries I can clearly see how hard I was running from everything. Real and imaginary. How I thought I was going towards something when in fact I was leaving it all behind. The pull I think was actually a push. I’m not sure the answer is here or there, but I’m importing old notes tonight. My archives page is screwed up, something I have to fix, within the K2 settings. But all the original notes from blogspot will be here nonetheless. I don’t know… Something’s missing. Purpose?

This one still feels close to me. Some things I’ve written I’ve forgotten the reasons, the feelings. But Drips resounds still.

From my fingers
From my eyes
From my heart
Between my legs

All the drips converge. They mean the same thing. Fusion of my fluidity.

I am water. I am blood.

I realize that everything I’ve tried to put into compartments actually belongs together.

The reasons for this, the explanations for that.

The noise… of course it won’t stop. It’s the perpetual garbage truck.

And it’s the drips.

I fucking ache at times.

I fucking leak.