Let’s Release These....

Not Now Please

I’ve waited for hours and I can’t stop thinking maybe I shouldn’t have. It’s the beginning and the end all at once bringing excitement mixed with chest pains. Heartaches sound more accurate but I won’t touch those.

I push everything, everything that allows me to feel uneasy. Everything that makes me question. Everything that doesn’t have a clear voice. Your voice though I hear clearly and it’s telling me to wait. I don’t like that. I don’t like waiting.

One Please

My mind needs peace today. There is so much noise in there that it’s hard to stay focused on anything. So instead of trying to clear out the clutter, I close the door and watch whatever new Netflix TV series is popular; only to wake up the next day and have it start all over again. Maybe a moment of stillness just to let the voices in my mind resolve their conflict will help. Maybe a few deep breaths and the constant rotation will finally decide to stop. Maybe it will be replaced with a calm sway like a hammock or a slow dance.

Untitled

I thought I’d never write again. I’d admire the work of the real writers and move on from page to page, but god forbid I allow my true words to surface. I feel as though I don’t have the right to revisit the old me when it no longer serves. I gave everything up for something shapeless. For abstract considerations that I feel will make the grandest difference in this complex winner’s world stationed in the imagination. Odd that I want to be a writer but use every excuse to forgo the activity. Though it appears I’ve overcome, in a minute I can go back to the state of Bones that I’ve been in for the last two weeks. I want my contract to feel the same as it did moments earlier. Come back.

Strange Occurrence

The air touches more than the surface. Everything almost given remains hidden by land, one may be too tired to cross. A conversation un-had with emotions held at bay. Before name exchanging even existed. Before moments of awkwardness became attractive. Before the static sounded like music. Before numbers were man’s one true quest. The love that splits into twos never gets sent or picked up. Stopped by tumbleweeds and aggressive wind. Strangled by the absence of a body and one small reminder that a home phone sometimes never rings.