Tense

I got lost in the future and didn’t like it. I couldn’t see myself anywhere but stuck, staring into diode static at the same desk, waiting for an external wake-up call. The resurrection of movement after a sleep and a longing.

I got lost in the present hoping for a different future, interrogating forces I shouldn’t be fucking with and wondering if I’ve been sad over having too much control or too little.

I got lost in the past mulling over things that used to be mine. Phantom memories like limbs with brief ownership, serving no new purpose but a constant refrain for nostalgia on things I only miss because they ceased to exist.

My spirit animal is a bundle of Christmas lights with a single burnt bulb. The knot so tight you can never unwind to find the fix and spend the rest of your life looking for a second & third reason for its inability to shine. Adopting new personalities like local heroes at corner bars in Delco until you no longer need to mask your face under the glory of the glory days.

It's scary to be seen for your skeleton. Bones are dense feelings unsuitable for flesh, taking form for protective measures giving shape to something that represents a person.

Tired all the time, I would like to be seen naked for the bones carrying me without being scared into a portrait of thirst traps and sarcasm. But I no longer know how to lay under observation with the required stillness to be loved.