I didn’t ask for this, but it’s what I ended up with.
Nights and times that you want to get a running start and sprinkle five floors down in slow motion with the rest of the glass.
There is a heavy something weighing down inside my chest. It started in my head, and now it’s somewhere near my heart. Elastic stretched from side to side and a bowling ball in the middle. The elastic meets time. The bowling ball meets gravity. Everything goes down.
Choose one: ask for help when you don’t need it, or keep your mouth shut when you need help the most. Pull out your hair. It’s a coping mechanism.
Is there anyone out there that’s ever ok? One moment in time, or many moments in many times, when there’s nothing wrong inside or out, and you can look up at the stars and smile at each other.
The world keeps spinning, stars keep burning, time keeps going, nothing stops.
How does it feel to touch.
I’m alone with my thoughts, so I’m never alone, because there’s always something. High on Zzzquil and Zoloft. My nightcap.
Ferris wheel keeps spinning, tilt-a-whirl keeps whirling, the lights of Coney Island never go out.
I’m not the only one.
The answer is in a song somewhere. Or a poem. Someone, somewhere, sometime, said it better than I ever will. I only have to find it. Finding it won’t solve anything- it will just let me know that somewhere, sometime, I wasn’t alone.
Burn your teeth. Don’t look at me. Please come back. I’m already gone.
