The worry, the fear

Driving on the wrong side of the road again. In the correct lane, worrying. I don’t want to die, not necessarily. Not at all really. Put the fender to bed, wake up feeling refreshed. Alone.

It’s just like she always said. Following up, looking for love, crying in the mornings. Physical activity to exhaustion. A caprice, ant like-not strong enough and smothered by the hive mind. I’m yearning for something different fearful of the same.

Competition strikes me as something dangerous and harmful- a sweet spot untasted or felt. Moving without moving, my eyes haze and I worry about all the things I’ve compressed. The vacuum, that shrinks my flesh around bones. Time will not tell you you’re fate until it’s dying hour. Words in whisper, thoughts from nowhere. Then hollowing suction that winks blindly at each victim. A moment, another moment, the straight red line. Buried, left pocket. Buried, right pocket. Both palms empty. Skeletal fingers and cracked teeth. My heart just isn’t in it.

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