Turning...

A Story by joe

Turning... I get down to listen to the pounding sounds of the world’s footsteps. Looking up and seeing things differently. Words can’t describe how quickly everything rushes down. Unexpected circumstances and a predicted outcome. I made the steps that got me here, lead myself down and got hanged. So why is everyone so sad. My footprints... I need some whiskey for these morning blues. Unremembered events flashing with only vague thoughts. An itch trying to recall that night running into the early morning. It’s like a word at the tip of my tongue an irritating itch that keeps running and thumping at the top of my palate.

Now I’m waiting to hear results. I know they can’t be pretty. Luckily my brain is on acid and I never had lady misfortune on my side. All that is needed is aptitude to discern myself, remove my roots, and nature to worry. Feeling stressed. Emotional longing stirred in anxiety, not indifferent, but just too wise to let myself get caught up with this inane routine of politics. I’m all fucked up, expected not to get numb. Solicited to be overly apologetic. When really I’m past everything too distant from my grasp.

Alright. Putting aside the drinking, it hasn’t been working out. Rather I was eventually heading towards whatever it is I got with retrospect and a dream. Well with whatever it is...I spent my time in your limited edition vice working on what’s really alright. How can I expect someone to stop their life for me, when I can’t expect myself to start living for someone else, but myself. Humph, no wonder I’m always so depressed. As long as I don’t get my intentional short-sightedness confused with blindness, I should be alright. I can’t stay steady, everyone is fidgeting, as long as I don’t make a mistake of my impressions….

Listen, here’s what’s really on my mind.

Why did things have to get so complicated? Couldn’t I have stayed a youth and not worry about developing emotions or dependence on relations to affect my wants, judgement, and needs.

What am I if no one wants me around anymore? What am I? Who am I if no one wants me around? Who am I if I come with all my restraints?

When all I want is to be left alone, but I know your right behind me. Don’t let me go, let me go even if I lose grip first. Drama in, trauma out.

Time is running, consider me a stranger everything is moving against my will.

On my own feet standing on this dysfunctional instability.

Don't bother with me if I can't let go.

Everyone is just turning and I'm stuck on the other side of this revolving door.