wash(ed)

Orange reflects on the rustled surface of mystery-shaded deep blue of the East River

Hazy cityscape in the distance illuminates the piercing red sun, perfectly round like a checkers piece, falls behind what as far as I can tell is Chelsea on the west side highway. Alone but not lonely, I’m creating a pattern coming back to this narrative but this time I fucking mean it. Well I always fucking mean it if I’m being honest. I evolve daily and move as fast as the crests of water glimmering orange on the East River at dusk tonight

I don’t know if I can survive anywhere else: the way the city swallows me and spits me back out in even more flattering light. Where else can do that? I might be comfortable in California or Colorado, but the city challenges me in new ways each corner I turn. I’m staring at the Williamsburg bridge right now, and can see the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges crossing down way, I’m entirely too lucky to be witnessing my lucid thoughts in real time like this.

I rely on me for self soothing, and I rely on myself in progressing to where I want to be. Have I paid proper homage to the city for giving me an endless canvas to create on? I can’t go anywhere else for I fear I will be left reeling, I need her in my life. She’s been the one constant in my growth. Then here it is: the fucking distraction.

Curly brown hair broad shoulders I wanna trace the line down your back I can see through your thin white cotton shirt, turn around I wanna see what your face looks like. I look at your tattoos, large on your left arm and scattered around your lower legs and I wanna touch you. It’s strange but I think I could show you how good it feels to be loved by me. Let’s get you to sign off on this experiment and let’s pretend this is real and let me show you how any person would be lucky to have me think about them the way I’m fantasizing about you right now.