I need movement, a fast car, a fast train,
it feels like decay, I am
becoming white noise again,
feeble tremors peeling the skin
away,
even the stillness around can feel
this fray.
I’m putting autumn leaves back on
the trees,
wanting back what I struggled to set free,
time asks for payments, that change with each stroke,
today a void inside, yesterday
it was a storm.
Like a moss covered statue with a soul,
unable to move but able to rot,
I am her today but tomorrow i am someone else,
give me life and put me to rest.
