aisles (jan 2, 2025)

i wish i could live in those aisles. transit around, skipping from airport to airport in a heartbeat. shades and american coffee, suitcase and hotel views. night sky, street lights, mcdonalds, alcohol and chanson. the reflections on the floor of a subway station, loud indistinct chatter deafening and making me part of an ocean, erasing my individuality for one split second on earth.
i wish i could buy keychains, mail them to my family and keep some for myself. make concrete my grass. make people my birds. always buy local brands. train rides accompanied by nature or its death. always remember the trips with my dad. die of nostalgia each day and ressurect out of ambition.
i don't have it in me to be a cog and the world does not want me to work for itself. i can't live in transit because i'm not allowed. i can't be the wanderer i am inside.

< 3 / > 5