I still find it funny that after all this time you speak to me. And that you imagine me from years ago. That I had such an impact on you, you can’t forget me. Yet you dismissed me. You chose others over me. You missed opportunities. And while I’m happy where I am, and with who I am with. I cannot help but think what may have happened had you pulled your head out of your ass and realized it was supposed to be me.
I have nothing to say and everything to say, all together and at once. And the pulse of veins throb as I grasp at my temples. And my hands shake while the throbbing is steady. Skin soft to the touch yet flawed with past hatreds, burning a hole into the present. The tired mind collapses as the throbbing commences and the tears pour endlessly. Endless, much like that of the constant battles encapsulated inside the mind. And with that collapse there is a double edged sword awaiting where there is no true good decision. And the eyes shut and the mind repairs and the sun shines. But rest assured the throbbing never fucking ends.
Is it over yet? I question, at one am.
But a troubled mind continues racing.
Funny, how we are always racing
the time, the traffic, the deadline.
And it’s funny how
all at once, it catches up with you.
Abrupt and absurd are the thoughts as they
come rushing through your head.
How you speed down through traffic
without wearing your seat-belt;
wishing you were dead.
It’s funny how your own thoughts
can crush you, but unlike a car
You are forced to witness every moment
while you scream and cry
and look down at scars.
And it’s funny how they never quite get how it feels.