Cycles

I just feel so damn much,

It’s like my life is a book,

And every detail is there for a reason,

Intended symbolism,

Interpreted by my all-encompassing moods,

For better or for worse,

It brings me to nausea,

An analysis driven headache,

I want that little glass box,

Boom will you show me?

You were always my escape,

I need you now,

Cuz I can’t find my way,

And in this home of hers,

I can’t think straight,

I’m on an out-skirted twig,

And I succumb to the distance,

Go to bed early,

Eat what’s on my plates,

and let my mind live through pages,

But I need your touch,

I need you to stroke my hair the way you love to do,

I’m coming,

God help me I will get there,

But where will she run?

Her boom is taken and I don’t know what to do,

How to help,

But I need to give her space and time,

So blahhhhhhhhh,

Dammit cycles,

Cleanse, rinse, repeat,

Cycle again…

I need to get out of here.

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