Desert

Voice - Eric Meyers

For once the words won’t come. A fuddy cloud sits just behind my forehead. A cloud of years, of things seen, of moments captured and stored for later. A cloud of intent, of promises - never to be kept.

As I sit restlessly not sleeping, the world I know is already half way through the day and I don’t want to face this one. I watch it all happen around me, I am a casual observer, everyone seems speeded up and slowed down.

I’m awake but asleep, I am so full I can’t eject. I’m stuck somewhere, in between, crammed full of it all and from complete overdrive comes exhaustion. Desire keeps me attached, it’s the force that stops me from disintegrating completely, from just breaking into pieces and becoming part of the air. I’m like the dial on a radio, I slide from station to station, from zone to zone never really tuning in.

Today the search continues, I’m surrounded by nothing and everything and have a nervous feeling in my stomach. The more places I visit, the more lost I feel. The only reason I am here on this earth is a mere two hours north of here and the greater grasp I should have found is gradually slipping through my fingers. I’m numb, in two minds, pleased but exhausted and deflated, not by the world but from sheer relief.

I keep forgetting why I’m here although I know exactly where I’m going. It’s the furthest I have been but the surroundings are familiar somehow, they tie me to the things I already know, further away but closer at the same time - and equally alienated. It’s funny how people look when you have a different reason to be there, funny how things can change. The reason for going can be the same reason for leaving, sometimes it happens that way.

I have discovered how painful it is to return to earth, the force of gravity causes enormous gusts that bend the body and make it ache. The aches of days exaggerated a thousand fold by the force coming up at me. I have a clinging memory of the body falling at 10 metres per second per second I must look in to this.

How small your voice becomes here. As soon as you hear it you become aware of how insignificant it can be, it becomes redundant. The only voice you have is plodding through thoughts and decisions. The meaning of virtual words is faint, the solidity of true locations is confusing.

We are so affected by our surroundings, we breath in the atmosphere and exhale with our actions. We float somewhere in the middle. One minute there is a reason, the next despair. I don’t even feel like scrabbling around in the dirt.
Everything is flowing through a tunnel, one way and staying there. Information with no escape route. I’m longing for that route to appear, the route that shapes, that oozes into every pore affecting every chance decision, acting as guardian whether we choose it or not. Weight has fallen from me.

When I look down I don’t really feel anything. I am surprised that the normal fear doesn’t kick in. Even when the thought that the whole thing could collapse slips through my mind I still don’t feel anything and although I somehow feel more connected with this place, the slight feeling of fear is contrived somehow.

Moments like this should be bottled. Gazing up, all is sky. I’ll be there soon and wishing I wasn’t, wishing things were different, wishing I was looking down from anywhere instead of here on the ground.

Things are so different on the ground, things happen to change your mind, alter your direction. The things you absorb reshape the way you act. You touch, you feel, you want to touch more, you want to feel but also want to be removed, need to be removed, to touch but not to touch, to feel, sense regret, hope?