Cue the trapeze.

20190926_132635

Perspective pedals a tiny tricycle around a path of twists and tangles, while honking a cheery horn. With a wagon red smile and frizzy kissed hair, my eyes try looking beyond the paint. It’s well done but not waterproof.

I tried following its logic, but the only thing I ask is—where does my heart get to rest in all this. I’m sure it’s allied with time, but the importance of the latter can wait outside the door until further notice. Though, the ticking doesn’t stop or is anything but silent.

But what if all the confusion that Perspective brings could be cleared up with a bunch of balloons. We could even hold a candlelit ceremony at sunset, say thanks, and watch everything ascend gracefully. Of course, I would welcome the winds’ whispered favor.

Then again, I’m sure five seconds after a peaceful sendoff, the time that I had totally forgotten about and tried to ignore would come crashing in. If it had rung the doorbell, I wouldn’t have heard it, for the only thing that kept me sane is up there with the balloons.

Perspective can be right.

Perspective can be wrong.

Perhaps, Perspective deserves a lollipop for all that I put it through.

 

 

 

Somedays, a head’s a heavy burden.

WorldO

I feel dusty.

Like the salt and pepper keys that have stayed quiet for sometime now.

In a black tomb like a fellow fiddle.

Other strings are where I last left them, secured on the sidelines.

 

Maybe I’m caked with doubt and insecurities.

I see the world around me changing, though I know

I’m still uncertain.

I see all the things I am and not.

But why should I care for this eternal wallow?

 

If there’s anything I can currently live for,

It’s every deep breath.

For that’s when I restart.

The battle to keep what I want continues.

I may be resting,

But I’m not done.