I’m trying to stay positive. “You should.” I’m trying to keep upbeat. Try to feel complete.
“Sounds Sweet as a nut” But…
“tick” “swish” “check” “Mate. Sounds great”
System can’t update. Update in complete.
Like a glass half full but topped up with ice. I feel thirsty. Like every day I have to pretend to be happy, like when your having a bad birthday. “Happy Thursday” Add an emoji or a meme “best Tuesday there’s ever been”. Emojis make blunt texts seem kind. That’s it I’m losing my mind.
Even when sitting safe and warm. Knowing I’m lucky to be born where I’m born. Stomach turns. Stomach torn. Wanting is icky more or less …or more. Blessed. I feel possessed.
Like I’m on the wrong track but I shouldn’t get off because there isn’t another spot for me. I missed the last train and it’s now twenty to 3. Never happier than in the early mornings having a coffee. Before it’s dawned on me by lunchtime…2.30. What then?
There is no space in the world for my ambition. It’s too much to sit still so I keep wishin. Which is exhausting and my stomach is fishin around for more. Swimming is circles can be such a bore. I tense my core. Kill the fish. Hook line and sinker. I wish I could latch on to something but my personality is on the blinker. If it was just one bad day I’d be having a right stinker.
I shouldn’t complain or I should get off the train. I want to be a radiator for my friends but I know I’m being a drain. I snap at my colleague standing too near his friend after not quarantining when he got back from Spain.
Privilege is health. Not wealth. I repeat this is as I gather dust on the shelf. Filled with batteries charged. I’m wired. Art is mostly shut. The little fish are out of water. Only the sharks aren’t fired. The world is on fire. Not with satisfaction but with empty desire. I’m getting it out watching films (I’m a crier).
There’s is a pandemic. Everyone in the arts feels the same. It’s not the time but I just feel in abit of quiet pain. I’m doing everything to keep sane.
Nothings good but nothings bad. My ice is melting in my half full cup can you fill it up again. Will you sub me an identity until I remember mine. Being normal and okay should feel fine. I don’t need to be special all the time. Most people are just getting by. I don’t need to be magical and turn water into wine. Yes just abit more ice in my glass for now. While I’m frozen in time…
