Day Thirteen: Sad but true.
I don't daydream anymore.
My mind craves the blank
spaces between moments
of stress and high-impact
nonsense. My thought
processes feel like a sad
series of arthritic joints,
cartilage worn away - now
just a mess of scar tissue
and bloody forgetfulness.
Something is most certainly
missing. Something I had
once, something I still need,
something fanatical and
fantastic and horribly simple.
And something so easily
retrieved, if I could only
find the time. It would be
as elementary as closing the
rubber-fisted handles of a
pair of bolt-cutters, hearing
the padlock bounce angrily
to the ground and knowing
I'm back where I belong.
If only I could find the time.
_________________________________________________
Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Postal Service, Such Great Heights
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