In-pouring

It seemed very simple to comply, very simple to get it over and on with. Though it feels like a bursting bulb of dirt, filling the chest, trapping the blood. Today I woke breathless, unbreathing being, unrested soul. Soon to be healed, soon to be battered, when again did I hope to be enough? But then. . . What is it that it is so big and unreachable? I forgot I'd realized better, I'd figured it all out. Or didn't I? Was I dreaming?, I probably was. But that once didn't matter, the number of times I sort all of this out is incredible. And I become young, ready to crash out of sorts. Time and again. I really won't forget anew my way back to basic reality, I mustn't forget that I can actually be the veins in the back of my hand. And I must not drift alone.