as of late, you find it hard to breathe. something stuck in the in between, having thy chest squeezed tightly. gasping for the moments when everything is still and sometimes you try to clear your head to think of nothing – absolutely nothing at all. because in the nothingness, you stay away from the crazy. from the nothingness you fare away from any thought of emotion. you’re still. a shell. shelling about. this haunting season. the one step forward, rubber back slingshot, twice removed and sent to the back sort of season. with every second that begs for a reason. to understand the confusion that circles. and you wonder how much of this has been caused by your hand. have you orchestrated and written in the dark clouds yourself? the in between. such a darkened and lonely state. it almost nears the – i don’t give a flying fuk anymore, throw your hands up in the air state.
because your wheels slow down. you’re running on low. and sitting in one place in one corner seems like the most promising venture. in this state, you don’t see too well. everything is that clouded blur when you mentally check out – you know…the blurry staring into space state. when a good run to the farthest tip and a new name sounds like diamonds dancing and twirls fancying your delight. these times. not the used to be there, or the future there – but just in the middle, make no sense, when is this over, can i sleep for the next five months there strikes you in the face. and you’re left, silently sitting lady like, with your string of pearls blank stare, delicately put in place with your undeserved crown of grace.