tonight all the voices sound the same and the need is great. greater than we have to offer. greater, each night, like a snowball. not just the metaphor, but an actual snowball. picture it: tiny speck rolling across the lawn. picking up more and more and more of itself until it is too big to lift. until this is the space it anchors to and becomes something else. a man.
is that what shelter is? the gathering up of self. the picking up of other people, other energies, other stories and traumas and urgent struggle for basic need? is it the rolling until you can't roll one more inch? is this the spot where you get stuck, where you become?
but back to the voices and the way they roll into each other. mel, mel, mel, melmelmelmelmelmel. give me a bed upstairs. move me to the top of the list. i'm not like the others. move me. move me. move. me.
everything is blocked. is overflowing. is only going to get: more stuck.
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