Nexus

It's far too difficult. Hovering around 55th and Ellis on purple nights. But there's a singularity on that corner. Black and gray against the night, and I watch it letting rain soak into a once pristine white t-shirt. Can't feel it though. The rain runs through me, and I orbit the corner.

And to think that I could so easily walk away from 51st and North...but the lemon lime leaves would draw me two blocks to sanctuary. I always returned to the point at which I was struck with stark reality. A life lived in a way smaller than today, but grand all the same.

The center of the Universe lies at Oakland and North. Oddly enough you'll find liquor and pretension there. In four directions I could emerse myself in escapism. East towards blue waters and reflective rocks. South towards art and conformity. North towards the past and future. And West towards rejuvination.

I missed such things. And I based disappointment on the fact that I could not mark my life off in neat little sections. Who gave a shit where Flintlock lead? It all looped back in on the same 2 streets. Both so trecherous in their design. An artery and a vein carrying blood to and from a tumor.

Why would there exist long stretches of desolate asphalt not meant for walking? Tree lined streets are meant for long journeys and a desire to breathe. Such a horrible thing to make it a trap. In this state they compound
problems, when they should put them in perspective.

So I circle the singularity on 55th and Ellis. Around it all time has stopped, and the past meges with the present, and the future looks uncertain. It's enticing, but there exists a fear of being trapped in a moment where tomorrow never comes. And it's tempting to reach out and touch it, to throw myself in to its onyx depths, and dissipate this built up passion. And even now, when there is as much between us as time and space, I feel it pulling me, out of sleep, out of bed, down many blocks, and through many streets just to be in its orbit.