Coming Home Late at Night

At night when the streets are empty

Except for the dull glow of the lights that line the roads

And the occasional hooded figure

Or rattling in the wind

I get a funny feeling in my chest

That sends chills down my arms and back

A feeling sometimes similar to a large poop needing to exit

But I have to hold it in a little while longer before I can get to a bathroom

Perhaps that description is unique to me

And does little to explain my feeling

It takes over my whole body

But my mind gets still

And it feels like time is washing over me

Chaos and calmness are one in the same

Sometimes after some moments I start to wonder

About my life my childhood my future my now

I’ll picture my mom

And I’ll picture my dad

I’ll pictures old houses

And then I’ll get sad

Entering the night I hear a laugh

From the way I just came

And I turn to my left to look at he who laughed

To have a man appear in the middle of the street

Smile wide on his face

Then disappear suddenly without a trace

Key meets the lock and opens my door

Passing through I’m wiped clean of who I was just before

And enter a land of crooked doors and frames

Tilted and broken in all sorts of ways

With shattered mirrors that reflect my shattered life

Tones ring in my ears and lull me to trance

My fingers now eyes closed are starting to dance

I’m right here right now on this line

But might have to open my eyes cause the flow is coming

From somewhere else I don’t know how it works

It pours and it pours and I let it go free

Even though the man in my head wants me to try and put out some buckets with labels and categorizations for it all to pour into

I don’t want to let him do that though

I want to be me

And have some wine and some weed

The best combination

For tranceful unfiltered unrivaled education

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.