Untethered – A Review

Loose my string and send me flying. I am adrift, like I long to be, but this time I’m out of control.

There is an ugly beauty to it, the way my rope spins anti-clockwise around my vertical axis. The way my sun cracked skin seems to peel as I soar. I’m headed home.

That’s where my mind is, but, for now, I am still here. Wrapped almost tightly around this aluminum pole I’m uneasy to call anything but an apartment.

I’m troubled. But only troubled in the sense that I’m finally feeling like myself again. But I’ve never been comfortable with comfortable.

I like to be knee deep in mud so my problems can be someone else’s. Let me give instructions for a difficult text, be sure you break down the subjects when you encounter entendres. Be sure you know your author. Be sure to double check all antecedents that might need to be heeded so you can proceed in understanding the things that precede the salted seeds that I spit from my mouth into your trash can.

I won’t ask again. It’s weird to feel fitted. In between the top sheet and what’s underneath in a hoodie that I should be a size between. I’m jumping from counter to counter like a cat stalking its faux-prey. But instead of leaping to strike, I manage to tailspin my pounce into a touchy session of bones rolled like banjo strings.

And when I slide my thumb into the pick and when I tighten my grip I find myself questioning the layers of molecules. I feel the different bones pressing against metal, separated by vessels, muscle, skin, and then that’s it. And it’s gross and I can’t shake it from my mind, so I drop the instrument all together.

The boof and twang as it lands on the hardwood floor reminds me of the rhythm section of my favorite bluegrass song. And I think about how you’ve come to Wait so Long for nothing in particular and now here I am thinking about what you might consider comfortable. And I wonder if its me. And I wonder if that’s why you stick around.

But then I remember that heads don’t always have to roll (I always wondered how some could have so much moss). And while there is a constant need for change it doesn’t need to be propagated by yours truly.

But then I remember that pole. I remember that long rope tied to my head. I remember my dream of being freed. Unknotted and adrift in the air for a glorious couple of seconds. And I think about you. And I think about the decade that I’ve known you, that pole. And I think about how we’ve gotten along. And I wonder if there’s a chance, in any world, where this emptiness could go away. Where it could be replaced with something.

Oh loneliness. How have we come so far, only to be comfortable.

Thanks for reading. Just needed to type, as per usual.

Side note: hid a very boring secret link in here. But it just shows up on mobile.