Inertia

the world is soft. ruptured pillows and bent feathers. reluctnant amateurs pressing against the wind. urged by their hunger. spurned by their feast. the sour desserts of truth and impatience that coalesce to give life to our yearnings.

empty cans and broken glass. common roadmaps to desperate wisdoms.

the vein is receptive. the path is there. only the destination remains elusive.

paper roads tear and shred under the weight of our progress. the cold confetti of optimists and fools.

the world presses. stirred by devotion. sculpted by memory.

the maps have their secrets. the places have their murmurs. we are left with the remainder. long goodbyes and abrupt detours.