Really, I don’t know. Sometimes I just let it flow because it must. It will. My muse sings inside of me and I must let it. I must be it. I must become that which I will be.
Don’t you see?
I lived that life long ago. It never happened because the past is not real. In the same way that the future is not real. In the same way that I am not real.
I saw it once and punched the mirror and cracked the vision………. my, no.
So, yes, then, it becomes. It beckons. It calls!
Drowning in the dark, feeling for the light of the ice, melting, against warm flesh.
It says to me and I withdraw into my tortoise shell.
I fall behind.
I don’t know who I am, except what I am trying to be isn’t me.
I don’t know.