You walk down the street and the cold air is all that you feel and the moon is all that you see. You look to the right and into an open window with a nice mid-century lamp and a fireplace in view. You become an orange glow.
You float down to the next block and realize that this night walk is the only time you feel present all day. You took this walk in order to look for yourself. Until a few blocks in you have been surrounded by what you can only describe as a terrible sand storm shaped like your own head. You start to wonder if senses and feelings are the same thing. The cold on your face is an antidote to the hot heat of that earlier flash of anger and the moon a bright antidote to shrink the feeling of hopelessness you felt when brushing your teeth this morning.
It was only yesterday that you noticed the sandstorm that has been following you, getting stronger every day. You finally caught it in the mirror when you looked upside down and backwards. It is sneaky but you are learning. You wonder if this is what will kill you. You wonder if you should call your mom and ask her if she has one. If so, what the hell does she do to keep it from growing?
Your storm is comfortable on most days but it clouds your vision from seeing anything new. Everything yesterday and the day before you already did. You thought it already and you took those steps already and thought those things about that person already and made that judgment already and forgot your dreams already, just as always.
Your walk becomes longer and longer as you realize you can’t stop without risking death. You walk most of the night. Until your shoes rub your toes into blisters and the feeling of pain in your legs replaces the fear of stopping. You go home and get into bed and you do not wake up in the morning.
A body in motion 