Us, made up

 I had put up decals and yesterday, close to midnight, I felt a slow burn. It may have been the sore throat and fever. Still. As I looked at all those circles, they seemed to be all the stories that make up a person...intricate pasts, the myth, the mania, the personalities. It was seeming a little unruly so I painted around it. To contain it, maybe. To turn all of this into an atlas of the psyche. 

And somewhere far away from it, the real free true part of ourselves is splashing around in the source from where it all begins.