the fabric of an impossible universe

A thousand different beds,
The same white ceiling.

The boredom and the chaos
Tuesday nights, I feel like dancing
Friday nights, I feel so alone
I am forever bobbing in and out of
A space-time continuum.

My 20's feel like
the opened wormhole
A galactic odyssey
transient in nature, anchored in change

Time feels cyclical
And linear,
both infinite
and finite.

I use ribbons to tie myself to
Things that feel stable:
the taste of coffee first thing in the morning
the heat of the sunshine caressing my back
the quiet of an early morning,
even in the most aggressive of cities
the hint of sadness at the end of a night out
melancholy empty champagne glasses
my mind somehow always, always
dancing its way back to you

I give myself deadlines
Thinking there's some eventual end
to it all, but truly,

I am tethered to nothing,
floating endlessly through the universe
Taking in my sights as I go
Meeting strangers in alley ways
on cigarette breaks
beneath cotton sheets

They become part of my journey,
my story,
An endless quest to home
colored with the doubt
That I may never again set foot on
familiar land

These are the things
that no one speaks of
blastoff, baby!
and they all watch you fall
into the black depths of space
fading away, slowly
into another galaxy's 
impossible orbit

I wish I would have known
Before I went on my way

That we'd still be looking to the stars
to guide us

Even after all this time.


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