Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Butting Heads with Myself

I miss the crickets chirping in the back of my mind
in the home we use to know.

Where our only company was;
the body of each other,
the warmth of the sunlight
and the silence from the streets
creeping through our window pane.

Company that gave us stories to forever tell
to a world full of possibilities and potential
that would root itself in my brain,
like ivy, impossible to remove.

I miss the cicadas roaring
outside my second story window
like aggressive waves in the sea.

No matter how alone I was,
they'd be there for me,
loud enough to overpower
every unsound thought come to mind.

Unfortunately the ivy was killed
long ago by a remedy known as reality,
a place full of pesticides,
where my crickets and cicadas
had no chance to survive.

Reality left me;
and knocked down
a notch or two
where my mind says I belong.

"I can't be anything I want to be,"
my mind would tell me that,
I'm delusional for thinking
there's something out there meant for me.

So I guess I'm also delusional
for thinking that I'm exactly
where I'm meant to be.