It's been awhile..
I don't even know where to start
I'm out of practice and stiff and hardened
I've been through more than I ever thought I would and I've changed more than I ever thought I cold. The age of arthritis in the thumbs and enlarged screen print and lightening coming through the cord has taken over, and taken toll.
And I have definitely paid my fair share. I dug through the crevices of my car seats and rummaged through the cracks of my home, all to gather a silver lining of a split second of contentment, and toss it into the barrel of economic refuge.
Money overcompensates. Life has never been so inflated.
My fingers have grown more tired over these past few years, yet my life swirls on, faster and faster with each full revolution.
Age does that to you, I suppose.
I have promised myself that I will relearn the art of gliding fingertips and flashing jewelry over the keyboard, I've missed it.
Writing it by hand just isn't the same. Words escape me too quickly now, and the computer seems to grasp memories with a firmer grip than the paper can handle.
Though my hard drive travels slower by the hour. As I look back on previous thoughts and wishes and sorrows, I actually have to ponder which "him" is him and which "boy" he was and just how "broken" my heart really was.
Time can really raise a cloud of fog, and a heart of stone.
I should like to think the stone is soft, but not easily scratched. This heart no longer fusses over the scratches and bruises.
I just add ice, and it chills,
even closer to the bone than before.
Milk should begin to replace my excessive water intake.
Unless I want my stone artery to grind against my shins.
Now, that, I say, would be revolutionary.
And would soon become universal.
The heart is not what it once was.
And what was will never be again.
I'm out of practice and stiff and hardened
I've been through more than I ever thought I would and I've changed more than I ever thought I cold. The age of arthritis in the thumbs and enlarged screen print and lightening coming through the cord has taken over, and taken toll.
And I have definitely paid my fair share. I dug through the crevices of my car seats and rummaged through the cracks of my home, all to gather a silver lining of a split second of contentment, and toss it into the barrel of economic refuge.
Money overcompensates. Life has never been so inflated.
My fingers have grown more tired over these past few years, yet my life swirls on, faster and faster with each full revolution.
Age does that to you, I suppose.
I have promised myself that I will relearn the art of gliding fingertips and flashing jewelry over the keyboard, I've missed it.
Writing it by hand just isn't the same. Words escape me too quickly now, and the computer seems to grasp memories with a firmer grip than the paper can handle.
Though my hard drive travels slower by the hour. As I look back on previous thoughts and wishes and sorrows, I actually have to ponder which "him" is him and which "boy" he was and just how "broken" my heart really was.
Time can really raise a cloud of fog, and a heart of stone.
I should like to think the stone is soft, but not easily scratched. This heart no longer fusses over the scratches and bruises.
I just add ice, and it chills,
even closer to the bone than before.
Milk should begin to replace my excessive water intake.
Unless I want my stone artery to grind against my shins.
Now, that, I say, would be revolutionary.
And would soon become universal.
The heart is not what it once was.
And what was will never be again.