ALONE SMELLS BETTER THAN IT SOUNDS — WOOL REMIX

I had to get out... Just clear my head... Alone… – nobody told me what that smells like. Blood in my lip and the salt on my jaw from the life that came apart in front of me, raw. I walk snotty with fists, braid wrecked by the wind, like a cornered animal — all spite, no give. Eight kilos on my back and my shoulders are burning — two grooves in the flesh where the sweat keeps on running. I walk... — let my legs take the lead from my mind — find out how it works, not to leave myself behind. Alone sharpens the eye for the ground standing here, for everything living beside the one you hold dear. I walk like you walk when there's nobody near: half broken, half dancing — my own song in my ear. Alone smells better than it sounds. Like pine sap, like rain on cold grey stone — only now do I hear how the silence is loud. And I fit, for the first time, in my own bones. Some days it wakes me and everything's clear — I'm alone now. And I keep myself near. A branch cracks — my breath quits, I stop, and I freeze, metal on my tongue, and the hairs on my neck can see. Fear doesn't say "an animal." It asks: "is someone here?" and adds it more quietly: "someone who again will hurt me?" I spin round with fists up, all ready to fight — and find nothing there but some needles and light. And instead of my breath coming back, I go stall — and — strange — I catch myself asking what I want. It costs: no one sees you laughing. It promises: no one sees you cry. It costs: no one saying your name. It promises: your own two legs get you by. It costs: the view that we shared, and a joy that was ours. It promises: hunger, trail, freedom, and they're yours. It costs: an ear that has quit hearing you out. It promises: a voice, and it's yours, and it's loud. Alone smells better than it sounds. Most days it wakes me and everything's clear — I'm alone now. And I'm back again, here. And yes — I can carry myself, I can stand, hold my weight when the doubt gets the upper hand. But alone says it plainly, won't let it slide: how much I still wish for a "…don't leave my side." I mix up alone with: nobody's guard, with: no one on lookout, no hand when it's hard. And I want the one who can see me and stay — not the one who keeps chasing himself away. There it stands, old enough to have watched times like these — never saw the mountain coming. It's not standing there for me. "Over that" turns my stomach — everything I carried comes up rough. It goes slow... — step by step is enough. And right there something heavy comes loose and it clears: I'm not what follows. — I'm what steers. Alone smells better than it sounds. Like pine sap, like rain on cold grey stone — only now do I hear how the silence is loud. And I fit, for the first time, in my own bones. Today it wakes me and everything's clear — I'm alone now. And I'm finally here. Evening lays gold on the ferns and the trees, and I'm listening to me, and I'm starting to dream. I want to love again — innocent, new — I begin with myself. And to myself I stay true. No picture, no witness, no "you remember it too?" — and I hope and believe that it's enough that I do. Eight kilos on my back as the last of the light falls — and the heaviest thing... weighs nothing at all.