The Dread Returns

The dread returns when it’s time to go home, you’re not alone.

You are alone all the time; you create artificial night.

Looking for the moon when it is time for the sun.
We could stay at work and live at work; it keeps us engaged enough that we don’t think about anything else. There is no time to think about what you did and what you are doing. Just move, and stay alive.

We because I include my heart when I write about me. We are separate, trying to reconcile our differences without placing blame on the mind or the heart.

Having defeated the heart with the mind, it turns out that without its input, care, spirit, its warrior drive to discard those details and get the action already, let’s sing, fight, dance, create or destroy, live or die, what the hell else is there, what is it that we are waiting for, my heart shouts.

Perhaps you and I both restrained our hearts of flesh and bound and chained them, suffocated them. Now here we are, so very logical and cautious about it —step by step, each little movement, taking so much time to prepare that all our moves are perfect and without the pain of mistakes, becoming good at finding something else to prepare for but never executing.

A prison, a keeper of a prisoner. The heart is doing time for being what it is. Do not wage war against yourself. Choose to endure, and so will I.