the fading paint of an archaic jungle gym

for a short time i was like the see-saw in the middle of the playground, encompassed in dirt and gently rocking up and down to the simple rhythm of gentle laughter and painfully skinned knees. as i would ascend i would gain a narrow perspective of the possible, the open ended chance that i could shatter free of the intertwining joints and bolts and be flung freely into the sky. it was a hope, it was a dream, but there was never going to be the freely transposed trust needed to just let go and venture forth towards the stream in the distance, over the fading paint of an archaic jungle gym to a place where there is the possibility that i could be free of the subtle yoke that holds us all in our intended places. i choose to stay. making the gently rocking postulate that will mark my cowardice until the end of my days. i choose to make her my everything, and she is more than obliging to do the same, at least for the time being. dreams of a western coast are only for those who have not found the solace they so desperately seek within their own borders and parameters. fifteen years, fifty years, or until the day that i breakdown and lay to rest, i will choose to be where i am, as long as it keeps comfortable with the gentle rocking motion that emulates the ocean. you see, the thing is, i love her, more than i ever imagined just a short time ago, and now i realize that where she rests is where i want to rest. where she sleeps is where i want to be. she is what matters, everything to this point has been a catatonic search for the thoughts and feeling that she inspires inside these weathered bones, and now i feel that comfort, the comfort of home.

listening to:

"Just Pretend" - The Bens
"Come on Eileen" - Dexy's Midnight Runners
"Do You Remember" - Jack Johnson
"With a Little Help From My Friends" - Joe Cocker