It is nuts and weird. Feels like a natural disaster, and I understand my faraway brother. He affords me constancy of camaraderie. Keep up, stay up. Do I hold certain things close to my chest? Like you wouldn't believe. I just hadn't lost the fight to share them still. I need my drums back. They are good sense-makers. I need a trip, to travel and run. I need to feel grass on my feet. Where does your tribe hide? I look around in the morning and think of how the sun rises, where you are. I can't believe the news I got last week. I want to go see Maynard play. I want to find a place of soothing dark instead of menacing dark. Does it exist? I still listen to PJ Harvey for solace. Regularly. I found some people to play music with. I am interested to see how that goes. I want to hole up and write stories about all that has gone on, like you wouldn't believe. We got him, my brother, in our house. We would trade his words and feel akin, less lonely, less futile. Vascillate. I hate your adherence to your timeline and your set of rules. None of us control anything but what we do with what shows up. I am exhausted. I never saw these changes coming and I am learning at a breakneck speed. I am frustra/devastated. I am alive! I jump and dance and sing. I am still here. I am still Katy. I am still the one to do cartwheels for. I am still pushing open bathroom doors and screaming FORGET THAT MISERY, you are owed such better grace. Cowards cowards all around. I know what I have seen. It is mockery. This is a mockery for the true hearted. I will think and feel and write like this forever you know. Harpies never quieted but surging never quitted.
Miss it. Like skinned knees, and a childhood imperfect. Petulant, tyrannical, and costumed. I like collarbone kisses and bravery that scares.
