I drive the back way home
Lost in thought
Deaf and dumb
Moving through streets
I know so well
I don’t have to hear or see
Alive, but not alive,
Seeing everything
In the rear view mirror
A dull ache of lost things
Propelling me forward
As I search the road side
For omens of what might be
Should be
Or can never be again
Lost on even these familiar streets
A spirit trapped inside my chest
Banging on these walls of flesh
while I am desperate to keep it in
while I am desperate to keep it in
Fearing it might slip out
and vanish
forgiving me for its fleeing
Like that blue balloon
I lost at eight
When the string slipped
From between my fingers,
Me crying pointlessly
At something that could care less
A shrinking figure against
The pale sky
The loss of which I still mourn
An inanimate, pointless,
Inflated piece of plastic
That had no feelings
At all.
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