meandering
not like a river though
which has
some sense
of direction, at least.
navigating days, hours
as if
they are labyrinths
of uncertainties
that do not have
exits architectured
within.
moving in circles or
disfigured loops,
coming back to the same point
often and
not even knowing.
or getting lost in a totally new
place altogether.
perhaps
what i need to do
is stop persevering
to negotiate an
escape.
and make these
harrowing
structures of time
my home.
