All too frequently –
The missing words –
Speak more than the conversation –
Do you regret it?
Walking this path more often than not gasping for breath, it feels possible.
If I just make it that final mile, those last few steps for ascension, impossible seems inevitable.
The sun has moved, it’s no longer rising.
My legs have tremors pulsing from thigh to toe.
What if this is it?
I am only meant to witness, not participate.
Would it bring fulfillment enough?
Early morning, late at night.
I heard someone talking about you again.
Unlike most he spoke in reverence of your peace, of your creative space.
Spoke out of love – no one else is around, up during your moment each day.
I haven’t visited in a while.
I have no excuses – only lies to me.
I need to stay up or get up.
4am the time for poetry, novels, stories and if I am lucky, the perfect sentence.
Only when I am trying to shut off my thoughts does my subconscious dance freely.
It’s a game we both play – a wicked dance.
When I need you or want you – you can’t help but saunter off into the corner.
Tucked away in comfort, drifting towards dreams you pull me out of bed.
A single scene, a glib piece of dialogue or a character that I know I’ve met but can’t place.
All entertainment, value and stories I need to hear but they don’t exist.
How can it be?
How can I put them down in words?
It will become an obsession –
It will eventually torment me –
Maybe that will be enough.
Sometimes, when I can’t fight, it all becomes too much.
The day is crushing me, tied down by expectation and requirements.
It’s more than a physical or mental exhaustion.
I hear their thoughts and they are not welcome.
The clock becomes useless, everything stops, when the day is long.
Allow me to float away.
HIKE. BIKE. DRINK.
College Level Drinking, Elementary Level Writing
A Poet's Journey by Manivillie Kanagasabapathy
An introvert's guide to the human experience