Each Time Like These

On days like these I don’t need anything, nothing at all. Out of my head, away from my body, I am sending any energy away. My spirit is gracefully collapsing in the palace of my quiet peaceful mind that doesn’t exist. My  body comes back to the wind, dancing with the street lights and the trees. My future is a poster, my present is out of this world, the past is covered with snow. If you here me signing, it’s OK, I will come back soon, just “now” is not the perfect state of being at.

My shoulders are heavy as if somebody unloving keeps pushing me down. Tears are embarrassed, lips are dry and every part of my body is out of it’s place. Where are you, Dear?

 

 

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