On the road again

I have to go to Baltimore, or right outside Baltimore. For work. Tomorrow. Everything these days is so work related. Survival, existence, long term plans, tomorrow. Constantly tracing the road maps under my skin. So I don’t lose my way.

I used to like my job. I don’t think I do anymore. The thought of having to get out of bed is paralyzing some mornings. Of just getting started. I secretly wish and fear, that I might die in my sleep. Curled up and warm under the covers. It never happens.

I used to like my life. I don’t think I do anymore. A broken screen door banging in the wind. Opening loudly; closing louder yet. The sounds of places I can never go to again. It's not like I’m trying. To be this way. More like pretending I know what to do. People in my life like stitches. Temporary friends that dissolve and leave me with nothing. Except a few more scars.

There are some pieces that fit. But there are so many pieces that don’t. Anymore. And it’s not like I can hide them. Sweep them under the couch. The sun shines, but I’m still shivering. Strangers with their colorless crayons, trying to draw me warm. My shoes always too loose, making me stumble no matter how slowly I run.

But life isn't pointing at me. It doesn't even know I exist. In the way stars always seem closer when the moon is full. Emphasizing how little I matter.

More empty than any bleeding heart can ever understand.