This bed is a ship

This bed is a ship is a sporadically updated internet journal, 
a home for odd scraps of writing.

so here, huh, the dream hovers above my lips. above the grey horizon. suddenly my desires are taking on new coherence, sweeping all my shuffling self up with them. a crystal, a laser, a shaft of sunlight, a clean sweep. 

for the first time in a long, long time, I feel like I’ve climbed out of the hole. 

sure, I’m broke as fuck and getting sick and always never catching up with all these little tasks like sand in my eyes and sure I worry that I’m in love at all the wrong times, that I’m in over my head at most times, that I’m a fraud and every time I forget someone’s name or accidentally say something bigoted everyone who has ever met me immediately knows and hates me now, and I’m still a little too preoccupied with getting everyone to like me and tell me I don’t need a nose job or whatever, but it’s fine. even though I need to get through this last winter-that-feels-like-a-winter. 

it’s fine. 

because I am excited about things, unapologetically excited.

because even if you don’t love me (who knows?), even if I owe lots of money to everyone ever (maybe one day I won’t?), there are such things as sunshine and good work and somehow managing to be a real adult and a little kid at the same time. 

I am still late to everything all the time, but I’m starting to have more to say when I get there. 

Sid BrancaComment