It’s the dark mode for me

I am now, at the round age of 3 kids, a husband, and a cat, understanding I’m a private person who has been walking nakedly towards others.

Maybe don’t do that.

Or do.

It’s a free to some country.

I am awake nursing my 2.5 year old under the yellow selection light of a sound machine, and the window may as well be covered by cardboard with how dark it feels–comfortable. 5 am. The same 5 am that has been begging me to access it; a door to a different life. I had been putting some strange film on it. Something about exercise, something about setting up a morning nest egg, something about arranging food. It’s a routine…

(Stopped to do some stretches)

((Had a whole day and another night of sleep))

* This is why we can’t write consistently. We’d have to accept that we will not be able to maintain any track because we are a legion of experience, sensation, and sources….bah

**I could…maybe just continue writing along until my sacral energy and I are friendly. She’s sleepy and doesn’t know the early dark …maybe a few reminders

1. My daughter is touching her toe to mine in her sleep while we share the 3rd bed of the kids room

2. Sleepovers, and being awake before everyone else, having a chance to wander unperceived

3. Leaving dance clubs and subsequent diners/ blanket pizza parlors fulfilled after having been allowed the full extent of my expressive body’s artistry.

Nope, she’s not interested in writing, she’s hungry.

What I had attempted to say to myself or out loud… What my flower petals were trying to fill through with color skywards was something like, “This dark is nice” And it was pulling up on something else in the claw machine. Dragging forward some other bear hooked over a foot it wanted to say something about my being made to speak to one person at a time. Maybe it was that daylight fills with various other subjects and so it’s much like speaking to an orchestra instead of that quiet little wonder of a table for 2 just about anywhere. Though blue is begining to alight upon the branching dark, I had a moment. We had a moment, the dark and l, to remember our exclusive natures. I’m the deep dark and the stunning streaks of dawn. Maybe.

I wonder who I’ll meet there through that 5am door, appreciating the dark, awaiting striking light to illuminate somewhere, something, somehow else?

Like Winnie the Pooh, something’s are much to bothersome to ponder on an empty stomach.