disastermagnet

Today the sky leans down leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable, like a new haircut. Today though, the buzzards aren't circling, and it's easier to get a foothold on the tightrope.

They do not speak in the language of families.

Today the light is coming at you from all angles, in shards from panes of shattered bliss.

And they glare at you from the other end of this silly green-orange day.

Today you're a string wound extra tight, vibrating as ambition screams from one side and doubt from the other. You can't just walk away. Not today. Today, serenity is on the run, skipping across the pond, knowing just where to land so it doesn't drown.

And they keep asking you, and you don't have any answers this time either. And so you stare, slowly folding out behind the eyes, spreading like a sail. It's clear if they only wanted to look. Clear as day. But you sway in the wind, silent as stone, and the color drains away. Drifting apart until the pieces are too far away from the whole to make any sense.

Today's spinning you one way but you're rolling in another. Today is a good day for being off balance. Today you can gleam.

And today they can't tell you not to.