Something in the air of Spring

There is something

in the air of Spring

that melts the walls

of restraints.

Something about the Sun,

or maybe the smell

of wet grounds,

or the sound of

chirping birds,

that unsettles the loneliness

holding you in a headlock

making you hold your breath

and your joy

and your art,

to the rythmn of winter winds.

How come

when the celsius rises

inspiration comes running back?

My art is afraid of slipping on ice

and hurting its sens of construction,

not knowing how to put words together anymore,

by fear of undoing those icewalls around them

in case they are the ones of an igloo

holding up a roof on top of its head.

How can you differentiate the walls

that keep you safe

and the one that keeps you in?

Someone should teach my art

to not be afraid of winters

cause Spring always come back after a while,

and with it comes back life.

Maybe my art is hibernating,

or maybe it comes from the surrounding,

and how can you create about feelings

if you can't feel anything.

highjacked by your own thoughts

seasonal misery

can't feel the overstimulation

of my brain in hyperaction.

Considering your entire life choices

stuck in an infinte scheme of thoughts

and how you feel anything

if you can't get out of your feelings?

There is a distance needed

to break the restraint

to create space between what holds you

and yourself.

Someone should teach my art

to go take walks in winter.