As of Now

As I sit in the stillness that is night I appreciate the glow of indoor lights.  The keys under my hands I remember a time of only paper and pen.  Trying to balance bending notebooks on bent knees gives way to warm motors heating a lap.  Words used to flow like water from a high ledge.  Now they stutter and stammer in a desert.  Do I blame this lack on self or the change in time?  Do I blame this death valley of writing on fears and regrets?  Do I blame this on where it belongs or find some excuse to take the burden off my own mind?  Crickets, unnamed insects in the dark.  A dark I avoided once and now want to delve into with a fierceness one starved contains.  Smells of night and hidden vices bring back memories of wrapping into the world and not wanting to miss a moment. Memories trigger another and another and another, a sudden flow that gushes the water words out of my hands at too slow a pace for my mind to prefer.  I rush to get keys closer to find the way to get the words through faster to find the ending the way the means... to comunicate.  To reach out.  To let it all out in a way that others will hear, read, feel and know.  To get them to understand.  Understand what?  To understand that the night, the dark, the time.  Yes that's it, the time. The time is what's key.  The time is nice and now. It's stolen from sleep from cuddles.  But also hidden away from the cries and the "mama"s.  The kitchen cleaned, a bit, I can escape to a now cool place and listen, and feel, and hear and remember.  Dark secrets whispered in the night. Dark secrets I share again, I relive again. Does he think of me?  Does it matter if he cares or wishes me ill?  Why does it haunt my mind? Because it is nature to do so.  To push the thoughts away does not service my self.  To hide from feelings only makes them push at you harder like the torrent of words behind the boulder that was shoved in their way.  No more they say.  No more, let us out.  You cannot avoid them any more.  Do not run, do not hide.  Embrace what you think, what you feel.  Zen or no, enjoy them and let them slip away.  Try to follow the flow, the ebb.  But do not get swept up in the hurt.  Joy brings pain.  Pain brings joy.  One is not without the other. 

My brain slows.  The thoughts retreat.  The start of a car reminds me of sleep.  I am tired of driving.  I desire to rest from my control.  I turn to the paper and let the noises, the smells, the memories fade.  For now.