Dreams Untended
There are days that I don't want the journey, I just want to get there already. It worries me, in the other definition of the word. Worry, to torment, to harass. Buzzing around my head like dive-bombing birds of distraction. I'm bugged by creatures of inaction, waves without a sea, caricatures of anxiety. So I know where I'm going, some eyes for my pictures, some ears for my words, some success that sucks me dry so I remember to stop and drink. Sink me in the snow, like a derelict home, let all my bones show. Drive me down a dead-end road, where living-beginning waits for good. I would hide there all the time, but I need people to survive, and I hope that they'll need me. In all my wanders through abandoned buildings, I'm reminded – dreams untended die, no matter how strong. They need sharing, in all honesty and desperation. So this is my heart, my hope, my thoughts. Filling my eye sockets and emptying my empty pockets. I'm all in, and I want to reach you, always. Hold fast, friends.

March 23, 2017
Round Hill, Nova Scotia 

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