feeling like i just want to fall asleep
and stay asleep
at any given moment
of any given day
and is it depression?
is it the exhaustion of an
active allergic reaction?
am i just a little bit less
energetic
than the average
person?
could it be something i’m not even thinking of
yet?
or do i just want to spend my days lost in my own imagination land?
[and
could i bring that imagination
into my own waking
writing
life
sometime?
soon?
please?]
but, should i want to write a book,
what book should i write?
should i re-write my first ever finished novel?
try to make it less about what i needed to hear
[and say]
at that moment in my life, and instead keep
the characters and their journey
and clean it up a bit
for a more
general
consumption?
should i try to finish up the novel i started
recently
with magic at its core
with a [relatively] scientific explanation
should i create my silly idea for a choose your own adventure novel?
should i write the fairy story of a person writing a fairy story
that they need
[and i probably do, too]
should i instead focus on play-writing?
or putting together a collection of
already written poetry?
i think i want to fall into a novel
like i did five years ago…
maybe that first option
really is
the way
to
go
children
and philosophers
wonder at the wonder of the world
children
and writers
imagine all the what-ifs
children
and actors
inhabit others’ stories
children
and tinkerers
mess around with physical objects
to see what can be done
i don’t think that it is only one kind of person
or profession that
keeps the “play” alive
from childhood
the key is simply to find a way
to keep your own childhood loves
going and going and going
so you never
lose them
the disappointment i feel in my own government
in my own daily interaction with the people of this country
or even the world
maybe i should start writing fiction more
just to be able to be around the people i enjoy
and in spaces where i’m not
constantly hounded by the existential depression of
“this could be so much better
but it just
isn’t”
let my imagination play
and take me away
to somewhere in my own brain
but maybe not
~there~
[that’s not a very happy place…]
half of my self
wants to run around
and have adventures
and meet only new people
and hear stories
and create more
and never ever ever stop
moving
and the other half of me is so comfortable
having a night in
television blaring
but not staring into a screen
instead cuddling up with my kip
or embroidering
or organizing bookshelves
or cleaning
just the menialest of menial tasks
feeling
so satisfied
but whenever i do one
i feel fulfilled for a bit
until i hear the other option
calling to me
and the only place i find i can fully balance out
is in sleep
when my physical self is at rest
and my imagination is bursting
[i really need to write more than poetry sometime]
the shuddering of my muscles
behind my right shoulder/
the lats
the connectors
that make my arm
go
the aren’t as annoying
as some flutters
as some spasms
maybe because i can just imagine
they’re my wings finally coming in
my eyes droop
heavy-lidded
with sleep not-yet forgotten
dreams hold me in their vice-grips
and i can’t escape
even what i can’t remember
i once asked someone what some part of my personality
meant in terms of the rest of me
and they stated, very plainly, that i don’t live in reality
(at least not when i can help it)
and i completely
agree
do you ever feel like
you just want to slough off your old skin
your old life
your old entire being
and start anew
in a new body
with a new brain
in a new situation
perhaps a whole new universe/
dimension/
something/
anything
i just feel
antsy
in this life
sometimes
(maybe that’s why
i am drawn towards
acting
reading
writing
the things we do
to imagine whole other lives
anew)
the same imagination
that skews to
worst-case scenarios
and all the dire ways
we could all be fucked
in this society of ours
is the same one that shows me
there’s more to life than just
consumption
and
competition,
that encourages me to find
better solutions to terrible problems,
that proves to me
there are better
more equitable
more humane
societies
than this…
every coin
has two sides
this sword
has both edges
black must stand out amongst white
and we all know yin
and yang
aren’t balanced
if they’re not
together
[but sometimes i wish
this imagination would just
let me rest]
kipventures 