Mental Vacation

The tapping of my foot is like bad techno and irritating words.
Indecision and imagination have got me wound up like the words of two countries at war.
Torn apart like a rag doll, my heart falls to the sides where two dark angels dig to the core.
But there is no sustenance, for either of them.

Like flavorless salt I’m tossed to the street, trampled under foot rather than season for meat.
Hopeless romanticism of what might have been, I entertain a happy end for you and me.

We had history that meant something, and you’ve kept a piece of me that went missing long ago.
Like the ring that was supposed to take you home, it traveled a different road.
I’m not bitter, maybe I was just a quitter, I guess we’ll never know.
Still, you’ve comforted me in hard times and I pray our friendship continues to grow.

Divided in two, the dark angels’ thoughts brew.
The one on the left gives me hope while the one on the right says “you have no right”.
Wounded like a kicked dog, you’d have me flogged for the time I failed you.
But who’s to say that’s not fair with the impairment of your life that I’m responsible for.

I’ve loved you with all my heart except for the parts that had been given away.
Maybe I didn’t have enough to give.
My inadequacies were shown every day, in the way that we lived.
I hope one day a piece of your heart will manage to forgive.

I’ve left a path of destruction in many places I’ve gone.
With each decision I’ve made it always seems to hurt someone.

Maybe I should stop deciding anything at all, until the queue is so tall that people are checking my pulse.
A permanent vegetative state of emotion I’ve already been accused of, may be less painful than repetitive injuries to myself
and others.
Comfortably numb, blind, deaf, and dumb screaming on the inside like a trapped animal who’s about to succumb
to the hunter.
A swishing sound comes from around me as black turns to white and my vision starts to return.
My eyes water from the stuffy air that’s like nails in a coffin.
The swishing turns to tapping, the rapping and tapping of two objects in space.
My body is tense and my neck refuses to break.
I’m shaking but the feeling’s remaining like an overstayed house guest.
The tapping and shaking are in syncopation, and only then do I realize but with hesitation.
The bad techno never stopped while my attention was dropped.
It was just a mental vacation.


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