Is it possible to escape your own life? To slip out of it like a bad habit or peel it away like a sunburn?
My life piles on itself and grates like bone stacked on bone. And I am stuck between the teeth of earth and sky. I am gazing up into the jaws of the universe. I am riding on the tongue of my own manifestation.
I long for a space I will not create for myself. I am caught in a loop. I am spit out and tumbled back suddenly. But I always know what is coming.
And I always know what it means. The clouds tell me. I cannot hide from the whispers in the air. Each sign piles on top of the other like compost mulching together.
And I am caught underneath it all, as quiet and small as a worm.