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.
