I like to daydream of the circus. And the lights. They are glinting.
I like to daydream of hot nights. Oven-like. When the pearls of sweat you find on a face, they glint, too. These pearls, the face. They work together with the lights, seamlessly. And the lights, this face. They tease each other back and forth. Both soft happenings. Yet both pierce me. I daydream about feeling balmy. When the sun has gone into hiding and all of the things the sun has created that day stick around after hours to watch. You know that with them, you can face the night ahead of you. I daydream of a time when another kind of element greets you. The element that can be informally known as a piece of cake. A walk in the park. When that elements sweeps through, you wish your blood and bones to be this toasty forever, if it means you will feel that hello again. Peace. I daydream about lullabies and winding myself up like a tin toy. And winding down through the glinting, alongside the lullaby hum and fun, post circus. Winding down from the big top and on my way to my smaller tent-posts. I daydream about a long, long time ago that people describe. This description, it describes the act of seeing someone. And wanting nothing more in the world that they were in, to marry them. And how marriage seemed as simple as deciding right then and there that they were going to marry this person. They decide to build that person a house and they will live in the house together, forever and build more forevers. I daydream about selfishness and how selfish makes this forever feel much more complicated now. And how we cannot just build someone a house. One with a white picket fence. It is just not enough for selfish? I daydream about making it simple for myself. So I daydream of the circus. And how a long, long time ago you would run away to join the circus. And not have a single thing to leave behind. I do not think selfishness is simple. So I do not daydream about it often. Simple is instinctive. Simple never tells you what to do. Selfish, it takes a feeling. It breaks the feeling in half and then it hands you each half and an ultimatum. I daydream of no other possible forces manifesting and seeing in-between me and a force I have chosen. A decision with nothing to leave behind. Simple like when people would run away and join the circus. And I daydream about falling in love at the circus. And the lullaby that winds up, it plays through us and through the string. The string that is bridging my eyes to your eyes, or the part of you my string is stitched into. All together, in my daydream at the circus.
