1919

AAAAHHHHHH!!!! YOU MOTHERFUCKERS! We made it!!! Goddamn, you have no fuckin idea! We’re back on track! Speeding! Little high, little drunk. That’s ok for September first. Be sober by the time we arrive. I came home to get grounded and go figure all I’ve been doing is moving around. Like a super ball trapped in a tiny room. I want to GO! But there’s nowhere to go, so we stay on track. Save it for later. Save it for whatever’s next. We save it, but we push it. Push your dopeness, you ain’t dope enough, we ain’t dope enough. Faster, faster, faster, it’s the first world. First, first, gotta get out ahead. Ahead of what? Who gives a fuck? Just keep moving. We redefine what it means to be “grounded”. I’m grounded because I can’t stop moving. I’m grounded because I stick to the schedule. I’m grounded because I’m keeping up. I’m grounded because I want more. I’m grounded because the urge to consume is real. More. I want more. That’s how I know I’m home. It’s been just under 90 days since I’ve come back. I’ve shed a lot of things, but I haven’t shed those things. I want more. So I still fight. I fight for less. I fight to not hold on. I fight against the wants. My needs. My needs are stronger. Affordable shelter. Fair compensation. Love. Time. Time. Time. Where has the time gone? It’s still 1919. I thought it was 2019. But no. Now I’m back, but back is too far. We push forward. Diesel electric on top of water, our bridges are old and crumbly, but they’re still here. Minds racing. Could go slower, but how? Nothing gold can stay, so we let the rust consume us until we crumble or adapt. Adapt. Adapt. Adapt. Shut the fuck up and do something. You’re doing it. You’re living. That’s something. That’s enough. First thing’s first, wake up. Wake up. Get it. Sleep. Repeat. Living. All other things are just minor details. Things that happen. Between sleep. Between eat. Between drink. Between piss. Between shit. Between, between. Between time. That incessant tick. Tick, tick, tick. We know what’s coming, we just don’t know when. So we fill the in between with all those thoughts in between our ears. The machine in between. I’ve been trapped in the machine. I thought cuz I had a few years under my belt maybe I knew a thing or two about this fuckin thing, but goddamn was I wrong. Trapped in the machine. Twists and turns, ups and downs, knobs and levers, valves and pedals, fuck it’s something else. Like nothing I’ve operated before. The mind. It’s strong, but I’ve been running it in the red. This is the release. It’s going to take us somewhere. We’re still on track. Steady chugging along. Got it mapped now. Grounded. Grounded. Fuuuck. The dock has collapsed. There’s no port here. We are not fuckin grounded. We’re missing the connection. Maybe it’s just a bad connection. Somethings not right. We’re on track… but where’s this track taking us?