Thinking too hard about how
your hands are supposed to work
And why doesn't anyone else
seem to notice
that just three seconds ago
the world must have tilted on its
axis?

There is a sense of complacency
mixed with the feeling
that you should have
pensive reflections over coffee
by yourself
as cars weave by
oblivious of the solitary
world you live in

But really you don't know if you've
taken a step forward
or if the finish line looks the same
from here as
from back where you started

They have smiles so wide here
they could fit your entire
heart in them.
But will they have to spit your
heart out, and all your troubles
when the smiles are no longer big
enough to hold you
after three months
of nothing but silence
and half hearted laughs
that sound different
through the phone?

And you wish
and you wish
and you wish
that everything wasn't
just left up to chance
because you don't know
for sure,
but it seems like someone
always stacks the deck
when you finally decide to play.

And you can't say
that you'll miss the four walls
that have never felt like more than
a slightly decorated prison
but the emptiness of it all
makes you want to weep.

Because is your soul just as
barren when all the things
you've spent
your time sweeping under
rugs
must finally be tossed into
trashbins
heaping with
regrets and bits of
dandelion fluff
that never really got you
anywhere?

And the flowers are finally blooming
and that should make your soul feel glad
but you know you will
outlive them
and they won't look nearly
the same when you return

Because the world keeps spinning faster
and you wonder if it ever
has to stop to catch its breath
because after climbing up
just a short flight of stairs
you can't help but feel
a little winded
and the world has to work
twelve times harder
than you do

in order to keep existing.

And yet you still remain vaguely
excited
like there is something waiting
in the mail for you
but you're still not sure
if it's a box full of tissue paper
or whether it's a handwritten letter
with no return address

And you feel obligated
to laugh with them
at jokes you have never found
funny
but you are too polite to
say so.
Because surely lying
is better than having
no sense of humor anymore

And this is going

all too fast
despite the feeling
that you have aged three years
in just a matter of months
and you are waiting
for the perfect sunset
so you can sit on a hill
and hope for an epiphany
that will probably
never
come