‘Irate neurons fire.’
‘A longing waits for patience.’
‘Steam pumped fumes sit still.’
You’d think a Haiku would be simple. . .
I stand to create so I can feel without needing to.
I trip on sidewalks when I walk but I’m not clumsy anymore.
When will I be able to look back in time without time being there?
Sometimes I store deep thoughts in boxes to ship to myself later.
Sometimes I can’t cry on the outside so those packages get soaked.
Sometimes I make up lies to tell my friends so I feel like they care.
Sometimes I see myself through my sullened, sick eyes.
Will I be able to look in the mirror again?
Sometimes I try to capture nature's beauty in words, so elegant.
Most times I fail and feel like a an idiot.
One time I smoked to escape and ended up stuck right where I was.
One time I asked them 'out' and my heart rushed.
'Out' never came, so my brain snapped me awake.
I felt like me again and it felt like nothing.
The only escape I could manifest was in nature.
The soft air reminded me of who they were.
Sometimes I think the ravens see through me when we lock eyes.
Sometimes I sit outside when people walk by because I want them to see me.
When I await the sunset, I feel the cycle replenish.
When the skies fade to darkness, I hear the same thought slam in my head,
"I hope they still think of me."
I never knew this is what it's like to be human.