We Always Make Plans for Escape

Think about it: We always make plans for escape. Kids lock the doors now. They used to hide under desks. I would store my documents in a little bag, taped to the bottom of the driver’s seat in the car until I was brave enough to go.

Think about it: Cops never tell you to run. Moms always tell you to stay put, to scream. The sky just hovers above you no matter what you do. Bad guys are always there no matter what you do. Time passes. Time stays the same.

Think about it: Our childhood sells us dreams. We clip our own damn wings even as we try to fly, posting and singing out truths in short quips and sentences made of characters instead of words. So many tissues, so many issues, we blow and examine the mess we left.

Think about it: Do we ever throw things away for good? Do dreams and mistakes and broken posts stop haunting us or are we just vampires creating our own stakes as we type towards followers? I am still waiting to become a goddess, a mother earth, a huntress who chases demons away, pushing them across the sky. I am still waiting to throw my tissues away. I think they’re gone and the wind blows them back again. Examine me, I whisper, so I don’t have to do it myself.

Think about it: We always make plans for escape.