Jetstar Flights & Duality
I have dual citizenship to lands only connected by a Jetstar flight, solely purchasable with coins of two different currencies. Unexplainable lands and indescribable cash that bring me to the fact that I can be two things at once.
On a good day, the flight only takes 30 seconds, but on a bad day… you couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t know. How can you measure the distance between anger and love?
How can you count the seconds between sadness and happiness?
Time is a measurable thing when you have a measurable mind. But when I look in the mirror, I see two different faces, and when I look at my hands, I see two different histories, and the thought of measuring up makes me want to be sick.
The measuring tape was invented by a guy with profits on his mind and domination breaking over the mountains of his measured horizon.
One time, I was trying to face the facts of something I wasn’t very eager to question statements of truth with.
One time, I was sitting hand in hand with the bad guy, and I felt his heart beating in mine.
One time, I picked up a bird that had been hit on the road, and it bled a hundred seeds onto my lap.
Two bloods in one body. A girl and a woman. It is light and dark, pain and pleasure. The kiss of a raindrop and the isolation of thunder. It is hard to explain something cryptic when the language is foreign, but misunderstandings are one of God’s favourite given lessons, and he doesn’t stop to let them happen just outside of you. It's what’s on the inside that counts anyway.
Picking at the pieces of another is easy in comparison to paying attention to the forces inside of you. Distraction only costs a buck, but self-reflection usually takes more than an hour. On minimum wage, the common person doesn’t even bother with the math.
Land of light. Peace in my mind. Chest puffed out big with blessings from a beetle that sat on my shoulder.
Wet sheets of tears. Anger, red in the tips of my ears. Hollowing echo of falling flights down my spine. Is this every mosquito that I squished coming to itch my insides?
If you leave your bag hanging on the back of your bedroom door long enough, it will fruit forgotten gifts amongst the coins and collected sand.
Pour out the remnants, and you might be able to afford a twin Jetstar flight to one of two lands. The catch is you feel like you are flying, and the overhead luggage is shaking, and you can hear someone’s watch clicking, and the coffee is overpriced and tastes like shit, but when you land, you are in the same place. The sky has just changed colour, and your mum has gotten a little older, and you sit on your suitcase and thank God for his God-given lessons and let go of the concept that the grass is greener one cheap Jetstar flight away.
You just have to wait for the winter, and then you’ll be wishing for the summer, and there are two things inside of you. You can’t love one and hate the other. You can’t bless one and curse the other. You can praise one a criticise the other.
Take eight flights of stairs down to a small room with a soft carpet and shake hands with yourself. Look yourself in the eyes and say thank you for the differences inside you that you once wished you never had. Because the power of two is greater than the power of one, and love without a home to go back to is a souls stolen grief.
Aloneness is needed, but with my hand in mine, I join forces with me, and the rest comes a little easier.
The kettle boils hot, and I met you on a dance floor made of the softest grass you’ve ever felt. My toes twinkle in the dampness of a solitude you don’t often meet. It’s not a salsa, and it’s far from the tango because the counts keep changing and this dance was never made. I’ve never seen it on TV, and it has moved far beyond the 3D.
There is no great inventor for the dance I do with karma.
There is no great pretender when it comes to the love that cracks through the trauma.
I lift heavy lids as my hips sway left and my feet tap right. I like the red dressed woman in front of me, and she likes the red dressed woman in front of her. The friendship of a lifetime if not neglected for the distraction of the limelight.
