I don’t lose.
And yet I have lost control over everything,
even the places inside my head
I swear it wasn’t my choice.
I used to be so kind.
I’ve become as common as dirt.
And I can’t help to feel as though I’m playing at real life instead of living it.
My heart twitches.
With eyes as unforgiving as Sahara desert heat,
I see them.
Their hands tied like a sailor’s knot.
They’re what I lost.
They’re everything I ever wanted to be,
I battle with what I know and what I feel on a daily.
But I know you.
I know you.
I know you like a prisoner comes to know his cell.
And while there’s nothing so painful, so corrosive, as suspicion,
I am a perfect, perfect madness.
I am unusual, tragic.
I am an empty ghost,
with a ticking time bomb for a heart,
just waiting to go off.