Back and forth.
Up and down.
Here and there.
But actually nowhere.
Apart from up here.
In my brain.
That’s where the movement is.

It’s a tightrope balancing act,
Every second,
Another step.
I am going to have to embrace the fact

That this is my new reality.
An intangible,
Hazy truth.
Half spontaneity

And the other half numbness.
A seesaw,
A jigsaw.
But with an endless

Aim of just one more yard.
Keep up,
Don’t slow.
But I feel tired

And I want it to stop.
But there’s one more season,
One more tide.
I wonder if I could chop

All the bad parts out.
No more old starts.
No more sore hearts.
Then I could shout

It away.
And fulfil my
Wish.
Of not wanting it to stay.

I had not thought it would be this way.