echoes in 3's

Wine and cigarettes and thoughts and thoughts and thoughts.

Sadness and happiness and all those in between.

Rain storms and thunder and lightening and the calm that is before the storm that never really exists, because it's always calm before a storm. There is no such thing. It just is.

* * *

Music and words and words and words.

"You have a lot you want to say don't you?" she asked me without expecting a reply.

And it was cold and the words in my head made me shiver. The dogs were antsy.

And my silence was heavy and I nodded slightly, but it was the weight of the words I had in my head that made it move. They swirled and panicked and crashed into each other and got louder.

Yes, yes, yes I had a lot to say. yes. Yes I wanted to release them because they were so heavy.

My heart was so heavy.

Some one share the burden. Some one help me with this.

But instead I limply waved it away, and walked to the car with no one to hear me but the absent passenger sitting right next to me.

* * *

Dawn is breaking, and there are skips that have been done in the middle of the road among a haze of white wine, but I'm not drunk, not on wine. No, not on wine.

Laughter is drowning the ticking of clocks, and the passing of time.

And the dawn is breaking, breaking, breaking.

and in breaking it made me whole again.

* * *

This is where I am. This place is somewhere, and nowhere, and here.

And in it's novelty it is so familiar like deja vu, or a recurring dream, or your reflection in the mirror.

And you are somewhere, nowhere, and here.

Until you are elsewhere.

And that adds them all up, collapses them all into "where?"

And I wish I knew.

I am Somewhere, Nowhere, and Here.