Flight of Summer

Writing

The sun breaks after late night shenanigans with companions.

My eyelids feel like steel shutters and my bad habit come to a fruitful apex as I lay alone in my bed suffocating my skin in layers of sheets to protect from the bone chilling air conditioning that’s been flowing for the past few days or so.

Missed telephone calls that are met by the lullaby of a machine’s feminine voice; my constant avoidance of conversation. I feel the changes; I feel the new distances between relationships. I feel them gazing,   they left me alone outside in the cold with my foot stuck in the door way and my arm reaching out for another to grasp.

Those days are gone; my summer nights won’t be spent this way anymore. I won’t be treated like this; I’ll chant legions of phrases for me to be left alone.

I still feel them gazing, the lies being murmured and the incoherent misleading that occurs is nothing but alive in its falseness.

I’ll spend the sweltering summer nights meditating and shuttling the demons out my soul.

It took me a moment to realize that all the anger and sadness, I’ve been carrying around is just excess baggage, my shoulders are tired and the skin on my shoulder is tattooed with the exhaustion.

It doesn’t take a genius or a philosopher or an intellectual person to agree that; this is your life and it is ending one minute at a time. So you have every reason to be happy and say and do as you please, even if only for the summer.

It’s felt like, I’ve been falling off the skyscraper I’ve built up and as I’ve fell passed each floor I constantly  repeat to myself “it’ll be okay”, uttering it to keep myself stagnant and without worry.

Only because I’ve never been worried about the fall from grace, but simply how I will land and how I will rebuild myself into someone even better than before.

And when I do, I will chant about how I am better than I was the last time and make the world crumble with my power and ambition.

There’s night alone where I’ve outrun rest, I look at all my shadows trying to bring me death; I can’t rest. They whisper how they love me. I used to dream of me meeting myself in alternate past lives and the lessons I learned. I’ve been tossed up; I’m lost in the search for the addresses of the homes of love and sanity.

Once you let go of everything, you’re free; you can fly.

That’s what I intend to do.

I will take flight this summer and reinvent myself and live for the present and disregard my past.

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