It feels 10 degrees colder in here than it is
I can’t feel my extremities,
my feet colder than the snowflakes hitting the pavement.
The clock stares at me from behind the walls again, closing in, a thaw begins.
No Sunshine- why are Mondays always the same?
I feel distance straddle the dwindling minutes,
til I forge ahead to the land of faces and forced smiles.
I’ll play happy if it’s enough to pull me through the chilled air.
It’s the only way out of here.
Swaddle me in your warmth.
The love of two souls,
who have grown so cold.
I understand now why people get dogs.
And what do I really know of the great beyond?
Truth, bulldozing my path.
Pain, my sure-fire escape to a better life.
These years are sailing by
with little more than a trail in the sky.
I fall back into this so easy.
You made my mind stir, the house I built with twigs, the mind that waits until nightfall.
“Oh my..” she whispered,
the room went chill
my eyes went blind,
how I viewed myself
when i fell so far behind.
The snow in my palms, watching the children build forts, making snowmen– repelling adulthood.
The laughter of minds not yet spent, replacing the pain I feel in my head.
Its only temporary.
Not the first or the last.
This too shall pass,
I have an iPod 5,000 songs deep,
and I listen to the same 15 songs
rotating in and out every week.
Failure, Wu-Tang- -Quicksand,
A battle between
“Delusional”, “The Nurse Who Loved Me”, maybe “C.R.E.A.M.”
I can’t pretend to exchange
comfort for change.
I’m ok with here,
I know whats next, and how it’s arranged.
Looking more and more like a soundtrack
of passing cars, texting drones with one finger on the wheel,
their foot nowhere near the brake.
Speeding along but not awake.
I don’t want your low-level hum.
Autotune, inflated drums,
Focused on the daily gnaw, and then given away.
Headphones allow these beats and progressions
to remain my own.
Not for the sake of repetition,
not worried about what you think,
my ears ring
and circling thoughts escape.
I rise and I fall,
My mind is a racetrack.
I want it all and I want it back,
I’ve been here before: flashbacks, retreat and starting over.
Not as a rule, just survival.
My mind takes off again.
And there is no plug, no light switch.
There is no way I want this as my routine again.
I gave up so much the last time I got out of the ward.
Mind peeling away the rinds and underneath I find that I am responsible for the output, and what goes in, and nothing more.
I don’t care about conspiracy theories.
I just know a lot of people died.
One day lost but holding on, our consciousness blown, people glued to TV sets, wasted, petrified.
Why was I alive- alone, but watching planes fall from the sky?
The deadening roar, silenced by just a small moment in time.
Smoke billows, bodies falling from windows, children without mom,
wishing they stole an extra hug, no more goodnight kisses from dad.
Looking out the front door for parents, left to the earth- madness from people who couldn’t feel remorse,
Americans with clenched fists just left feeling mad.
My mind allowing me to care for those I’ve never met,
feeling worse for those alive who can’t forget,
wishing we could all rewind,
or just escape.
What would you know about blinking at an oncoming train,
battering ram-style and grace,
she left this place, your mind blown, face intact.
I heard the blitz, oncoming lights,
tracking her thighs the whole way in,
until my skin burned and fringe,
escaping her vice grip, under the pressure of skin sheathed in leather and disguise, bruises to hide and a man she couldn’t deal into a pool of sharks, fins and tails- the last thing you saw are the whites of their eyes.
Jaws gnashing your torso right above the waist.
This isn’t what she thought you’d be and you became that same thing you hate, she hated, breathing through a feeding tube that was handed to you.
Indigestible blocks of dead air, looser strands of hair,
on the kitchen floor- clinging between nails
and toes that scurry, the fridge for milk, cover Lucky Charms… shovel it in as fast as you can.
The only luck you’ll find in these late hours. Red 40 and a bitter taste she left that you can never cover up.