Wednesday, April 1, 2009

This is the closest of calls...


displaced as always, i can't feel my hands anymore.  i drive for miles unaware of the stops and starts, the bends, the curves, the turns.  i wind up nowhere i want to be. the song continues to play, while i sit dreading having to unbuckle the seat belt, open the door, and plant my feet on the ground.  i am heaven sent, don't you forget.  i am all you've ever wanted...sorry i told. i just needed you to know...i am the cause to all your problems, shelter from cold. we are never alone. coordinate brain and mouth. then ask me what its like to have myself so figured out. i wish i knew... i carry a notebook in pocket in case my brain becomes so full i can't contain the tidal wave of thoughts anymore.  i walk and scribble not seeing where i'm going or who i brush elbows with. i stare at my shoes avoiding the cracks.  my left hand shakes, tired from having to keep up with my head. this is war.  every line is about, who i don't wanna write about anymore...and keeping quiet is hard...oh we're so c-c-c-c-c-c-controversial.  we are entirely smooth.  we admit to the truth.  we are the best at what we do.  and these are the words you wish you wrote down...  i can feel my heartbeat in my stomach and it keeps me up at night.  i am breathing too fast or not at all.  i am putting up a fight to resist the reality they have imagined for me.  i am brokenfragmented and okay with it.  we're concentrating on falling apart. 

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