Everyone is someone new for me to run away with mentally or physically.
All of my suitcases
Filled with baggage
I try to forget to bring them
Yet my hands always ache from gripping the handles.
There are maps and magazines
I wish I could jump into
I'm chained to poor mental health
Poor decision making
And a desire for the room to stop spinning
Long enough for my thoughts to take shape clearly.
Casual *** and let-downs strengthen my mental block.
No one can reach me.