There are days where I can’t think of anything without my mind running away with those thoughts, taking them, some weird connect the dots. Everything feels loose, off paths, loops, like nooses. Shove defeat through the opening, and pull. And pull. And pull. My flag or just another poor chap. And I pull.
it’s not a contest, but. I have you beat. Twenty years of nonstop thoughts. Find relief in sleep, crawl into bed, wake up clean but incomplete. The sheets sticking to me like my dreams. stagnant with sleep. Stuck in mud. Like the rope I need, like a thread from a shirt, like slow shutter speed- I pull, and pull, and I pull.