Bogged

I’m bogged over.

My left brain is working way too hard.

I feel like I’m running a Daytona 500 game and then somehow my body, absorbed into the screen, just can’t stop the brakes, and I am racing faster than ever.

I feel like a scoreboard, hit all over, but I forgot the rules.

I need to step by, step out a bit. Tie my laces before I get on, I can’t trip any more because my knees are bleeding and the blisters are bursting.

I don’t wanna talk about it.
It makes it harder to get away and on.
The reality and the words.
This is a screen, these are just zeros and ones, and I’m just a figment of someone’s imagination.

That’s fine.

I’m praying for the air. The air that the monkeys just didn’t had the voice to scream out for. The turtles that paddled frantically for the fate of their shells, their lives.

I’m praying for an understanding from simple straightforward acceptance.

A very long deep unafraid shhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

Solid air can’t be breathed.
It rejects the lungs with a harsh gasp
and leaves you wanting more.
Suffocation takes root deep within our souls
choking off life
understanding
serendipity
our destinies.

‘what could have beens’ fall into
‘never was.’
And the wondering is stolen before we know what was gone.
the air is solid.
will wings still fly?

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