intoxicated my mind.
The flashing lights were a sort of hypnosis
but they did not let me forget the dizziness that
permeated every limb and the
desperation that filled every particle.
"40 seconds!"
Strangers' sweaty bodies pushed up against mine and
I looked up to the kaleidoscope of flesh and colors
and I wanted to run.
As hard as my feeble mind was yearning,
the seconds would not pause to take a breath or pay respect;
they barreled forward like brutish warriors,
forging a path through a thorny wood.
"Here we go! 10, 9, 8..."
Wait.
What about the magic and the love and the heartbreak?
What about the memories
and the high that life gave me on the regular?
What about the friendship and the endless starry nights?
What of who this era has made of me?
"7, 6, 5..."
Tears threatened to erupt but I held them in for the sake of the
strangers.
"4, 3, 2..."
Tender look between friends.
"1, HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
And the moment vanished like smoke in my calloused hands.
I swallowed down a dose of disappointment with
fireworks and snow
and it all mixed together in my exhausted gut.
I let it marinate.
And the sourness of the blow was
transformed by the lights in the sky
and a little voice said,
"The best is yet to come".
The memories of the past may be buried
by particles of soil made up of every fleeting moment
but they are seeds that will grow in the secret garden
walled by my tenacious ribcage.
They will grow with the light of the new year
until they shoot out my toes and heels and change
the very nature of who I am.
And they will propel me forward in search
of even greater seeds to plant
and even greater views to breath-take.
Because let's be honest. Longing for the past is about as satisfying as yawning with a broken jaw. Negative satisfaction. I would know.
