i slammed that fucking door good didn’t i?
sometimes
when staring at a blinking cursor
he’d wonder “what do you do?”
there were nights he thought
he’d tire of it…eventually
but somehow the feeling persisted
creeping and receding
in monotonous and rhythmic circulation
wondering how, when, and ultimately…if
the past collided with the future
creating a wrenching collage of emotion
that threatened to tear his mind inside out
and leave him hollow
in a limbo of terrifying comfort
in moments of clarity
to let go of this whirlwind
seemed
the most frightening thing of all