Worrying why I can’t seem to find my own head
Is it even on my shoulders, between them?
Riding into the night with lightening upon me
Where I’m going is somewhere my heart has been to but my body has not
And the universe is calling for my physicality
I’m giving in, slowly but surely it will rise and give itself to them
Them meaning something hopefully better than what’s down here. Here, I am still here even when I’m gone
I’m gone even when I’m here and I’m not making much sense
My fingers are growing tires from needing to vent out the words needed to spill into other people’s minds
Finger tips, once soft, callused like my heart.