Promise don't let me miss it.
Driving down the highway, a lot of things hit me at once.
I soon realize in a quick attempt to swerve that I have miss my exit and I'm now taking the long way home tonight.
Still in a daze and loosing sight of reality and looking at pictures in my head, I begin to think, I might be on my way to Boston because the ride home never seemed to me, this long.
I pay attention in defiance to location markers, and keep myself from slipping into midnight dreams of what was.
I pull off the turnpike and onto a firmilair road I used to take nightly on my way home from work. A life that now, seems to have never exsisted.
I take it and drive for 15 miles, again, past where I am supposed to turn off.
Something strong is pulling me in this direction, and at this point, it could be a number of things, so I don't resist.
I find myself parked on a side street, waiting to finish the last of my cigarette.
I look around knowing this is not my planned destination.
I get out and flick my cigarette as if in a movie, following a script, but I haven't read far enough ahead so even I don't know what's going to happen, I just stay in character.
As if just eyes in a body, without feeling, I climb the stairs.
It's not until the eye are looking at me through the blinds do I feel like I want to yell "cut" and do it again.
She opens the door, greets me with a hug and offers me a seat.
The man kisses her good bye and mumbles a "nice to see you again" even though I know it's not.
I've been cut of the pages of this magazine for a long time now, not even glue can put me back in.
She nervously picks up her phone, dials, listens and hangs up.
She does this many times, before finally getting an answer, I sit without a word, not offering to make the awkward silence go away, I pretend not to notice how uncomfortable this may be for either of us.
When we both realize why I came, that's when I know it's time to leave. I make small talk in an effort to find an exit and when I do
she graciously lets me go.
I close the door and almost loose my footing on the stairs.
I get in my car and light up another cigarette.
I slowly begin to ask "why do you do this to yourself?"
Everyone would disaprove.
But like a ghost stuck in purgatory, I've got unfinished business that needs to be taken care of.
And apparently I don't have control over how it gets handled my mind has a body to transport it, I'm just a courier.
I soon realize in a quick attempt to swerve that I have miss my exit and I'm now taking the long way home tonight.
Still in a daze and loosing sight of reality and looking at pictures in my head, I begin to think, I might be on my way to Boston because the ride home never seemed to me, this long.
I pay attention in defiance to location markers, and keep myself from slipping into midnight dreams of what was.
I pull off the turnpike and onto a firmilair road I used to take nightly on my way home from work. A life that now, seems to have never exsisted.
I take it and drive for 15 miles, again, past where I am supposed to turn off.
Something strong is pulling me in this direction, and at this point, it could be a number of things, so I don't resist.
I find myself parked on a side street, waiting to finish the last of my cigarette.
I look around knowing this is not my planned destination.
I get out and flick my cigarette as if in a movie, following a script, but I haven't read far enough ahead so even I don't know what's going to happen, I just stay in character.
As if just eyes in a body, without feeling, I climb the stairs.
It's not until the eye are looking at me through the blinds do I feel like I want to yell "cut" and do it again.
She opens the door, greets me with a hug and offers me a seat.
The man kisses her good bye and mumbles a "nice to see you again" even though I know it's not.
I've been cut of the pages of this magazine for a long time now, not even glue can put me back in.
She nervously picks up her phone, dials, listens and hangs up.
She does this many times, before finally getting an answer, I sit without a word, not offering to make the awkward silence go away, I pretend not to notice how uncomfortable this may be for either of us.
When we both realize why I came, that's when I know it's time to leave. I make small talk in an effort to find an exit and when I do
she graciously lets me go.
I close the door and almost loose my footing on the stairs.
I get in my car and light up another cigarette.
I slowly begin to ask "why do you do this to yourself?"
Everyone would disaprove.
But like a ghost stuck in purgatory, I've got unfinished business that needs to be taken care of.
And apparently I don't have control over how it gets handled my mind has a body to transport it, I'm just a courier.