Happy Again

I can feel this.

Every fiber of my being feels this, every muscle, every bone.

How sad. Bones recover last.

I’m experiencing a loss, or rather the aftermath of one.

Slowly, but surely.

In my own manner, the only way I know.

My train of thought is running and I’m the only one on board.

It’s speeding up and there are no brakes.

I try to fasten the seatbelt, but there isn’t one. It’s a goddamned train. Instead, I’m accepting what I see – my thoughts barrel to my hands and tie me up.

It’s all there. All I can become or all I can destroy when I get off.

Throw me a coin, will you? Decisions need to be made.

I have nothing to acknowledge when I’m with you. I may appear indecisive, but I truly don’t know who I am. What’s more, I never know who you need me to be.

I have to endure the fact that all these sounds haul me to the last stop.

This is outlawed, I know, but how do I stand against the willfulness of my inclinations?

I can feel this.

I need this.

How sad. I’ll recover last.

Photo: ezioman / Flickr

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