If you could read my thoughts, you'd see they're just as broken.
Originally published at Perambulating Reason. You can comment here or there.
I’m in a flat-spin,
wondering if the concrete will hurt
more or less than a wave.
Is it possible for the earth to swallow?
To drown?
Which would I prefer?
The high is out of gas
and I’m on a nose-dive,
headed straight for point of origin.
Some days I wish the roller-coaster ride would die.
I’m tired of the ups and downs
always turning me inside out.
Mom says to pop pills,
but numb is worse than lonely.
Back to the couch and books.
Words are my friends.
They know no sort of maybe
and they never show up late.
They tell me what they think
instead of what I want to hear.
Keep the flames away
and I think I’ll be ok.