"The Next Thing"

Hum of static fades— just silence.

I stare locked onto nothing but ahead...

Unfocused and unknown.

Blurry edges,

Mind flooded as so many things go by.

My eyes strain in the recollection of errors,

Fractured reflections refracting regret

Into the darkness of repetition.

Too many problems... the bag stays open.

Clothes stuffed inside like memories I can’t fold neatly.

Her articulation fractures

Through quivering air,

Desperate in whisper to articulate

"Questio".

"I'm just disappointed in me, myself, and I."

That’s all there is.

Everything inside is cracking without a sound

Every time one language barrier is exposed.

Cerebral resistance— paralysis of utterance.

Tears— snarled lips, clenched teeth.

"Sadness is a foreign language...

But disgust, regret...

Those, I understand.

"That I have no one to blame but myself."

It hurts...

No excuses, no crutches,

Just the mirror staring back.

Me, looking back

When I was glaring at a blank piece of paper,

Knowing there were so many things

I could do to it...

Yet creativity wasn’t on my mind.

So many things— yet nothing was on my mind.

"I'm just thinking how so much has happened to me...
and why?"

I could've gone far...

Could've—but now I am...

"Right here, right now..."

Nothing can be done

But to accept the failure in me.

Leaving isn’t the escape...
it’s just the next thing.

Words don’t come easy

when I'm trying to hold in everything else.

This is something else.

A thing that doesn’t know limits,

That twists deeper than just pain.

I'm tired of seeing the same dull-eyes...

Worn, Depressed, dizzy face.

I want "The Next Thing".