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where nobody's crying sometimes, i wish for static. i wish for a window by the sea, for a never-ending supply of pens, for a faulty breeze, for somewhere where i can stop looking, if only for a little while. i'm tired of always moving, always feeling different; my stomach feels like it has been clenching for years. perhaps it is the static of real change that i ache for. a new horizon, a new smell, a place where my voice does not bounce off these empty walls. sometimes, i hear my voice, and it catches me off-guard; it sounds so young. but when i go to bed, my tongue feels so old. i will relish the time when i can sit upon a rooftop and watch the waves again and feel some kind of cornerless tomorrow where the endings are not so finite. |
