winter never ceases

march 8 or 9th (i don't know)

i am feeling like im paused again

only after a time of constant going

i am still now, trapped in longings of ideas

and all encompassing stillness

when i'm spattering the smears of colours i don't realize

what i am saying and

when i say i am going what I mean is:

Usually, it doesn't last for longer than a few moments at a time.

But, when my limbs are rocking and my body is

buzzing

and the waves of the beef

are swelling my drums

i can hold it for much longer.

i never considered needing it but when i had it,

i was present and going

moving faster than i ever could have thought

and once it left i hadn't been

able to fill

it the same

and

my limbs aren't happy without a hand to hold

and my drums can't live without the laughter when it ended

i want to move again. for some reason, no matter how much i am aware of the doom of the grey when the sun tires of its north, i am always slammed into oblivion or a place that is so blatantly still, i can't even think of anything else to call it. I just know that I'm deep down under everywhere I want to be -- I don't even want to try and claw myself out.

And, Here at the bottom of still the last thing I'd like to do is knife a fucking rainbow.

What do you most miss about childhood?

"Knowing the world was limitless."