Feeling lost in translation with the world around isn’t the only problem she has.
She has lots of problems and she chain smokes to not think about them. She’ll smoke even more if the weed doesn’t come in. She’ll wake up in the morning and feel the tar in her lungs and regret every drag she’s even taken. Go over all the mistaken mistakes, things she shouldn't have said, things she should have said better, things she'll never say. Think about all the gone ones, afraid for ones to come. Disconnected connectedness. Conundrum to her mother, herself and most others.
Repeat the cycle for three more days. Add in a few deep breaths. A beer - or three - and maybe a walk alone if the cards favor her that day. Lucks not a strong suit.
Stuck in between that place of wanting someone to just have a conversation with that isn’t about feelings, family, or anything else within the walls that have been plastered and duct taped together, and wanting nothing at all. To be left alone, seen as a passerby stranger. But then the night time gets quite and is just as loud as all the voices at the bar. Chitter-chattering all through the night.
If only her dog was there.
She has lots of problems and she chain smokes to not think about them. She’ll smoke even more if the weed doesn’t come in. She’ll wake up in the morning and feel the tar in her lungs and regret every drag she’s even taken. Go over all the mistaken mistakes, things she shouldn't have said, things she should have said better, things she'll never say. Think about all the gone ones, afraid for ones to come. Disconnected connectedness. Conundrum to her mother, herself and most others.
Repeat the cycle for three more days. Add in a few deep breaths. A beer - or three - and maybe a walk alone if the cards favor her that day. Lucks not a strong suit.
Stuck in between that place of wanting someone to just have a conversation with that isn’t about feelings, family, or anything else within the walls that have been plastered and duct taped together, and wanting nothing at all. To be left alone, seen as a passerby stranger. But then the night time gets quite and is just as loud as all the voices at the bar. Chitter-chattering all through the night.
If only her dog was there.
She gets crazy and manic and reaches out then lashes out the next second. Like a wounded animal who doesn’t know where the pain and love begin and end. The red bird sits on her windowsill and she’s reminded that simple is beautiful. Anything beyond that is too heavy and should be thrown away, disregarded, pushed away. Not knowing what to want, not wanting anything.
She’ll just ramble on until she’s there. Then leave once she’s gotten there. Never wanting to be here. Never wanting to be anywhere, except for over there. No where for awhile, moving onto now here. Now here she is.
She’ll just ramble on until she’s there. Then leave once she’s gotten there. Never wanting to be here. Never wanting to be anywhere, except for over there. No where for awhile, moving onto now here. Now here she is.
Beautifully written..
ReplyDelete