Drifting Life

Almost suddenly, it slowly gathers speed.
It aligns itself, the heaviness in the head.
Have you ever let the string of a balloon go?
When it leaps out of your palm when you hold it too tight
Or when it slips from your fingers when you thought it was all right.

When everything you see
Becomes blurred by the haze
Just above the clouds
A paper trips through my fingers
Unfolding it
I learn about a legend
---The best being brought by great pain.
Inside me, I can vaguely feel the cardio-muscles thump.

I have the right to be an escapist
I feel a burning ‘need’-
To jump off
To have no sense of responsibility for this or that
To be starved of consciousness for most of my life.
I suffer a fiery ‘desire’
For the fragrance that burns in the air,
A bit of beauty that I want to spot everywhere.
A touch that I want to remember, a smell that’s fresh in me.

Visions of her drawing near
Begin, abide, and disappear
you try to slow it down
It doesn't work.

So how was it, when it leapt out of your palm because you held it too tight?
How did you feel when it slipped through your fingers, when you thought it was just right?

Is this all written in blood?
No.
It is tears too.