Maturity

Maturity


I want to bury the small hint of maturity that lurks somewhere deep within me. She withers and whispers how I’m killing her with every passing day, and I take another drag, another drink and I push her deeper beneath the tissues of my juvenile instability. I can’t say that I know what I’m doing because I’m sure that if I did I would cease immediately.


All I want is to be able to let go of that element of me for a time. I value it and cherish it, I try and nurture it when I can, but regardless of what I do for it I usually end up damaging it every time I slip and fall off the wagon of common sense. I lay in the dust, inhaling the particles that stick to the blackness of my lungs and wait for the next caravan to come and run me over.


The different parts of me are seemingly infinite and they all want to grow in different directions, entangled in the layers of the atmosphere. They pull me to the sky, the vines wrapped tight around my body, cutting off circulation and I see explosions of purple and red in my blurred vision.