And you are the kindest person I ever met. You are an anchor lodged in the current. And it’s currency that keeps us apart. And partly time. It’s never the right time. Time is essential but hardly of the essence. I can’t make sense of myself these days. The days blur together, one into the next, until they slowly break apart. Chunks of time in perfect ratio with my splitting personality, one to one and the possibility of one plus one gets pounded back into one of the shafts from whence we came, dust to dust and ashes to ashes and my how the mighty men fall as time keeps passing.
And all the while you remain kind, incomprehensibly so while all I try to do is comprehend myself and what keeps us so far apart. And my thoughts escape into my headphones and my headphones squeeze all the tighter trying only to hold them in. And my mind gets foggy and causes rust to build on the dendrites that connect one thought to the next. And rust holds the chain of my bike still, an immobility to commute or commune. Stiller and stiller I become even as the anxiety builds up inside causing the acid to gnaw on what living parts of me am left. And all the while you remain kind. So kind and so, so far away.
by Deborah Busch
Submitted on Sat, Nov 10, 2012 at 6:42 PM