I watched the water ripple with each drop, breathing in the wind. It became still, and I breathed with the wind. Saw my eyes in the glass. I became still.

I watched the hand spin in circles one hour at a time, it never grew tired. I grew tired. The fan kept spinning, the static kept singing. And I became still.

Every day comes. What we have to do. What we want to do. What we have to feel, what we want to feel. In and out. The soul is only there when we don’t want it. The feeling is only there when we don’t want it. Every night control and comfort argue. The fan keeps spinning. The static keeps singing.

I become still.

I want, I need, I grow tired. What I have to do, what I want to do. What I have to feel, what I want to feel. In and out, the water ripples with each drop, and breathes in the wind.

Music plays, voices speak, tires hum, trees dance, the sun sets, the fan keeps spinning. And I breathe with the wind. Noise and calm argue, love and hate argue, me and you argue, the fan keeps spinning.

Anxious noxious hopeful eager torture and I grow tired.

Even in the dark