I'm sitting in my little apartment, now, and it really doesn't feel any different than any of the spaces that I've made my own, over time. There's that same scene that struggles up, through my mind, through the sediment of everyday thought that builds around a persons brain over time, in any person, and tries to excavate itself through one means or another: dreams, recollections, deja vu, imagination.
"I fight to the surface, gasping for breath, the clean, untainted blue of the water strangling me even as it holds me aloft, welcomes me, shoves me towards home.
I look, and she's there, waving me in. It doesn't even look that far, really.
And, of course," this is where it all splits up, where sometimes I make it there, paddle ashore and she welcomes me home, takes me in her arms, back home, and I rest and live and touch and hold her again.
And then, "sometimes I drown, and sink, even though it seems so close, and I can see her, almost touch her, but I'm so weak, and I sink under that gorgeous blue, and it holds me, and greets me, until we're together forever, and I dream of the shift and break of the waves, and forget everything else I worried about.
"I fight to the surface, gasping for breath, the clean, untainted blue of the water strangling me even as it holds me aloft, welcomes me, shoves me towards home.
I look, and she's there, waving me in. It doesn't even look that far, really.
And, of course," this is where it all splits up, where sometimes I make it there, paddle ashore and she welcomes me home, takes me in her arms, back home, and I rest and live and touch and hold her again.
And then, "sometimes I drown, and sink, even though it seems so close, and I can see her, almost touch her, but I'm so weak, and I sink under that gorgeous blue, and it holds me, and greets me, until we're together forever, and I dream of the shift and break of the waves, and forget everything else I worried about.