Meta For Ickily Speaking

I step from the shower and stand motionless, acutely aware of the water drops gravity seeks to recover from my skin. They feel like tears slowly rolling down my soul. I mourn privacy, original thought, peace. I clutch the temporary stillness like the towel wrapped around my body. I examine my emotions before they evaporate. How long have I been stagnant? How much longer can I remain indifferent to every cell crying out for movement? I fight the urge to continue my routine. Wrestling the demand of the clock's metronome, I reach out to my unconscious, but regimen wins. As consolation I remind myself to be here now, but in this moment the words are bland on my psyche. The syrup of luxury and security is so easy to swallow. It coats my core with a tonic that suspends my fear of change, but in the deep breath between asleep and awake, the fabric of new experience brushes the comfort of familiarity, gradually wearing away the threads until I'm left with no choice but to seek out the garment that will warm my inner being again.