there are stampedes coursing through my veins
i cannot imagine me, ten years from now
still the hostile antagonist, battling without weapons
this is me, missing exits and ditch-diving for safety
i pulled over because the future is too vague.
this is the past, emerging out of pores & vacancies
the soft-spot caving in.
i have memorized the route to the washroom and back
i suppose this is the only path i really need to clear.
i have not felt a skeleton like this for years,
and a voice is telling me this is the only way.
this is the sound of my vertebrae snapping under pressure,
the sound my cerebellum makes when the curtains closed;
a heavy hinge unbuckling after many years.
this is how my skin feels in a tortuous condition
like blisters expanding and collapsing,
filling with nostalgia - exhaling current events.
i regress into relapse.

sometimes i feel like this.