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Gravity, Taxes

And my Ultraviolet Sunglasses

By Kristen Keenon FisherPublished 4 years ago • Updated 4 years ago • 2 min read
Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann

In my dreams, I run with no destination.

Non-stop.

I want to know what time feels like.

Undaunted. Untaxed.

Debt-free. Never looking back.

I want to go where I haven’t been.

See what I haven’t seen. Ultraviolet.

Look where I haven’t searched.

And find something there.

Something rare.

So I leave.

I don't warn my habits or my friends, I just,

hit the ground running.

I want to feel how time feels.

I stumble but I keep moving.

Because that’s what time would do.

Miles turn into days, days turn into states.

I look back and my old habits are on my heels.

“Where are you going?”

Am I addicted to them? Or are they addicted to me? I keep running.

I feel an odd obligation to them.

Am I who I want to be, or how I am perceived?

Time knows nothing but progress. It flies. Why not I? Why not me, gravity?

I run.

Am I me or how you see me rising sun?

Unrelenting. Wrong or right. Self-assured.

I want more than my options can afford.

Taxes.

The gravity of an economy so gluttonous it eats its own tail.

The price of doing business.

Pay your dues.

There is more to me than I see. Ultraviolet.

Running.

Just then, made a left.

Westend.

Had a run-in with some old friends.

Where have you been?

This isn’t like you.

We liked you better before you changed the weather.

Am I my aspirations or your judgment?

Forever stuck between the inertia of my will to change and the chains of the

past.

Of my ultraviolet dreams and the gravity of reality.

I roam. Like the drifter. I roam.

Like Dial tone. The OM of the lone signal. Solitude is bliss.

I can hear my old thoughts.

Forming patterns no longer compatible with my heart.

My new OS is state of the art.

I relinquish the karma of old debts.

My old self.

Taxes.

I stop running.

Far from the empty space of my room. To the empty space of my mind.

I found something there.

Something rare.

Debt-free and enlightened. Ultraviolet.

From the lens, I see.

My empty room was the cocoon.

That night,

I grew wings beneath the moon.

No longer captive to time and gravity, karma and taxes.

I take flight.

surreal poetryperformance poetryinspirational

About the Creator

Kristen Keenon Fisher

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    Written by Kristen Keenon Fisher