Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death. - Anais Nin

So I've decided to leave my job. I've been feeling extremely overwhelmed with school; finding myself stressed at times for no reason. I've been mentally absent from work. Physically present but pulled in too many other directions to focus on any task at hand. I think it's noticeable. It was easy to hide at first, but lately I've been screwing up a lot of things. I think it's become obvious that I am not consciously engaged between the hours of 9 - 4pm Monday through Friday. I want to focus solely on school and on my art work. One of the most difficult things for me these last few months has been the lack of time I have for painting. When I'm not producing art I feel empty and depleted. Like a shell of a person. The scariest part about the whole transition is that I do not have another job lined up. I'm going to take the plunge regardless. I need to. For my future, for myself. At this point in my life I'm more fearful of stagnation than of change.

I.

Your promises
are like interludes
performed at the bottom of a swimming pool

one act shams
air trapped in a parenthesis
a raft never meant for floating
or never meant for much of anything

illusion of essence
hot air balloons tied to a barbed wire fence

driving on flats
in circular motions
up and down counterfeit words
a pause before the big bang

I thought we were going places.

II.

Where were you the night of november 23rd
your intermission was eternal
I waited
and the joke was on me.

Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody does anything about it.
- Charles Dudley Warner

Adieu friends - I’m off to enjoy some good weather.  Send me some ridiculous forwards while I’m gone, won’t you?  I will need some material to return to.  Spam mail, friendship forwards, television surveys for individuals that don’t own a television, anything that requires speakers to my work email address.  That would be nice.  

Jumping up walls to touch invisible threads
through the top of the slammer
some kind of temporary heaven
pale blue codeine or a baseball bat to the skull
I’ve got to reach high enough for everyone but my own
taste the sky and slide the ladder to the bathtub
pull your weight onto the deck
the captain will greet you with a bucket of ice cubes
and you will lay with your stomach to the stars
pondering the tile
grateful for nothing