run peter pan! they're coming for you!
I feel like a car just ran over my mind. My mental world is tilting on-axis while I'm alone on a carriage on a ferris wheels rising up towards the sky. And at the apex of the revolution, the tiny carriage will disengage itself and fly up, up, up and away, with just me, me, me and the peeling red paint on its side.

Sometimes it seems the new year grabs me and drags me kicking and screaming to meet it. I'm okay with the inexorable passage of time. I just don't want to grow up that much. Grow up and blow away, yes. One day we'll all grow up enough to stand on our heads and fashion hot air balloons made of our own spun silk thread and we'll fly off, to whereever the wind takes us, like seeds being scattered in autumn.

Dandelion, dandelion, what time is it? Mostly the hours and minutes and seconds spill out in every wild direction, but always

away

                                     from
                      me.