attic light lanterns, attics_ alight
grant me a nighttime mental reprieve,
being only
distant sort of world items which eyes latch onto cue brain to read into
a sort of far, far away
and it tears away seamed years where imagining the here and there attic
or other spaces that seem to ache for a special existence,
decayed into life cerebral

and if we talk paradox, we should look first to this specimen, right here;
there is only that mental sort of convulsion when hurt is too broad
when a supremely human sort of emotion grips onto all that mental capacity we learned
to give supremacy,
and suddenly! the physical body is gripped, controlled, legs that jump up from resting leg
in a tick toc impatience
lungs that roll inwards as if to be stored for time, and breathing hiccups, a spongy panic button
this! is the moment where our halved states exist as one
and we are anything or everything, alive
painfully lit and alive
divide gives way to

attic light boxes, space lanterns strung across the 4 walled built ups in my vision line
I imagine anything else but here, me, us, this and that
and such a relief to feel the child's ability again
for out there not here to mean novelty, a place to try and play life any way you please
and not that drugged adult exhaustion with the enormity of worlds masked as too little time for dreaming
accidentally losing the ability for new construction,
there are no lantern boxes or honest dreaming just
spent escapism

lit, alight
lost
alone, content
gave up on the people who eat away at gentle hearts and mind ability
gave you up for a better construction,
with as many windows as lights and that issue a call for there not here

oh honey love shh, herethere is a reciprocal kindness in everything from plaster to wood
in flight

but I cannot pretend about how hard I wished for him to want to come with me.
but those are aches for attic space,
those disappointments. illuminated, yes, but quiet.
I'm ready now at least for departure,
light, lit
ready