And I realized...
Being busy wasn't what I looked for,
Busy
Busy
Too busy
To think.

Busy
Busy
So busy
So tired
Asleep.
I looked for busy people

Because then
They'd understand
The depths
And the dark
That only constant running
Can feed.

And how exhausting it is,
To have to escape.
Every day.

mornings are for the beach:
whispered self-conversations
and singing in the underpass,
the clearest i can hear myself

peeking out under baseball caps
and sneaking around town
as if i don’t live here anymore,
which i guess i don’t

staring too hard at the sky
and sometimes-nighttime escapes
driving in cars that aren’t mine;
going around, going nowhere,

and everywhere: choked by
memories in every place we ever went,
making this place feel like less of a home
and more like a crime scene

i do not know how to stop feeling haunted

there are suitcases at the end of the bed
and none of them are mine,
the ghost of you is teaching me
how to run.
and – what, you thought i would stay
just to watch you be in love with her?
just to live in the knowledge
that you no longer want me?
you thought i would stay for that?

maybe i am that masochistic,
maybe i really did love you.
but maybe some people can love
boundlessly,
without drawing lines,
putting up walls.
and maybe i
can't.

run across the orange shorelines where the greatest empires have fallen,
and kiss the waves of the salty sea in hopes of resting your clumsy pulse and frivolous thoughts.

stretch your legs.
lithe up like a prideful little boy before a rigged game of 'the floor is lava'
and run!

run like your laces will never untie and your loaded veins will never misfire.

run through the realms of yellowing pages you cling to,
full of ball-point metaphors and crisp, eloquent descriptions of the beautiful feelings you've trained yourself to hate along the way.
i beg you to get over-friendly with your paintbrush when we reminisce this time.

run.
full-fledged, snot-nosed, scared-shitless-grinned
sprint!

run to silky cotton bedding drenched in the stench of your maladaptive daydreams;
peppered with layers of insight we've yet to discover,
and two cold pillows
that can never seem to sing your static head to sleep or fully embrace the weight of your bruised shoulders.

run like you can feel for once;
like a curious kid who's never seen a map or compass,
he just zigs and zags through the seemingly endless wildflowers at full speed as he pilots the backyard in pure and sincere bliss.

run to sun-drenched golden fields where the night sky tints itself blue to succumb to its favorite shade of darkness,
and your breath settles low on the tips of the tall grass like the fog growing over a prehistoric low-land,
and the stars twinkle like lake-thrown pebbles about to let you decrypt the gleaming secrets they hold...
and everything comes clear
and cool
and calm.

run free
and fierce
and nameless
like it's the only thing you've ever known,
run until you reach me.

i was lost
in the night.
distance waited for me.
panic didn't just go away.
panic could come
into my head.
i wanted to escape

The keys. The keys are on the kitchen table.
The car. The car is parked just outside.
My bag. I've packed it with clothes, not much else.
Money. Not a lot of it, but probably just enough.
My phone. In my pocket, turned off.

Is it really just these things i need, to run away from this place?

Leave my life behind fly out wide, deep in space.
Running away, leaving all the challenges I face.

Would it really be that easy just to leave this place?

In a metaphorical prison, surrounded by concrete walls. It's lucky that my mind's ever seen sun light at all. I mean physically the door's right there but mentally I continue to stall.

Why? Why do I stay, looking out the window through the bars? Dreaming of a life I'll never have from afar.

I never understood why the caged bird sings, i mean what does it have to sing about? Locked in a cage, alone with my thoughts, I begin to shout...

I AM NOT A CAGED BIRD! Please let me out?!

I could open the door, but I'm fighting in my mind,
part of me says that it's nice here, the other part knows this is just irrational fear.

So grab the I keys, open the door, I feel as though I'm ready to explore.

I wonder....will I ever miss the cage I lived in before?

Hallways:*

They're empty first of all.
And anything or anyone that appears to be there, isn't actually there, you-- are dreaming. Don't believe me?

Let's play a game, it's called, "Where's Waldo?" With you as "Waldo".
Yes, that's right, you-- have to find yourself in this sea of walls, floors and people you do not know.

These people, with stoic faces, walk the same halls, looking for the same thing. They do not care that you are here, and you don't care that they are here.

Just get to the end of the hallway, but don't go into the light, you are not here to die -- you can't. You have to find yourself before you do. But there are some people who die before finding themselves in the "Where's Waldo?" page.

They're dead!

Out of this maze of halls you find yourself in.

But you...

You are determined. You will not leave without finding yourself, do not allow yourself to give up!

Look!

At the end of the hall! It's you!

You found yourself! You win the search! Now go!

Run! Get to them, yourself is waiting for you at the end of this hall.

RUN! Run as fast as your legs can carry you! Because you do not have time to think, so RUN!

They need you to save them! They're calling out to you, screaming for help, for You.

Get to them, grab their hand, save them!

...And just as you barely make contact with their hand and lock eyes with a body with the same eyes and face as you...

They begin to fade, to disappear!! WAIT!  NO!

Come Back!!

You were so close to saving them!

You wake up.

It was all just a dream.

You were dreaming right? You know you were dreaming!

You get up. Open the door... exit the room...

And you walk down a hallway...