I've been sitting in the cab of my truck for two hours because I'm so angry and bitter and upset with the world that I can't muster the energy to open my door and go inside.
I don't have the desire to see the faces of the people I live with or watch my dog wag his tail and jump all over the place because he loves me.
I don't want to hear the voices of my housemates or the general screaming of household activities which are now suddenly so loud that I feel deafened at the mere thought of something as trivial as the beep of a microwave or the scoot of a chair or a casual conversation between two people.
I prefer the silence and solitude of this blackened box where the only person I have to disappoint is me and the only person I need to be able to bear is myself. And while that's hard enough, at least I'm used to it.
At least I can tune out my own breathing and the tapping of this keyboard and the scratching of my jeans against my seat or the scruff of my shoes on the floor mats.
The jingle of my keys, unturned in the ignition.
What do I need to feel better? How do I get help without asking for it. Without feeling like a fool? What is it that I need anyways.
Love? A night to cuddle someone? Solitude? A weekend trip? Time with my buddies?
What will it take for me to feel okay enough to muster the energy and the courage to leave my self loathing?
YOU ARE READING
Read His Mind
PoetryI use beat poems to try and explain to myself how I feel. The ones I particularly like usually end up here. I hope you like them, or perhaps that they might help you figure out your own mental maze just as they helped me. Enjoy
