Once, the static in my brain
Aligned so perfectly with the rushing in my veins
That it became central to my consciousness.
Perceived by my ears as an ever-rising crescendo,
My heart swelled, radiating pin-****** - painfully,
Down to my fingertips.
I was immobilized by dread,
And capitulation to fear was imminent,
As I realized the presence
Of an unwelcome and terminal essence;
It was striving for control, unwilling to settle for less.
I at first tried to fight- but the hold was too strong;
My limbs were too weak to fend for myself,
My mind too frantic to offer help -
So I accommodated instead, and ever since.

I can never do the one thing I want the most to do,
I can only - suddenly: fear,
Encroaching shadows.
Blindsided, I wish I could say. But no.
Not quite.
Doubt shrouds my intentions,
Like a cloud blocking out - no, an eclipse,
Predetermined intervals of near complete darkness,
A pattern of uncertainty, a seeming dichotomy-
But reliable nonetheless...
All the same.
Ordered chaos; predictable, unwelcome, regrettable.
Torturous, truly.
Light again, passing by, gone again-
Always.
Never.
I can never do the one thing I want the most to do.
I can only do the one thing I am wont the most to do.
And I am helpless to it all.
Lost to it all.
It is a cruel discrepancy.

Within the rings of trees and layers of rocks
Lie countless hours - so many lost,
Time that was wasted, never regained,
Until regret and comeuppance were all that remained.

Daydream my day away,
I can't wait;
Maybe two good things will coincide.

The thing is
It’s my ******* problem,
Mine alone -
I can’t put that on you.
It’s my own fault,
For feasting on scraps,
Tossed my way
With vague intentions.
I even told myself then,
When I first earned your favor,
To prepare for the worst;
I was bound to get burned.
But it just wasn’t that easy -
I closed my eyes for just a moment,
And liked, too much, what I saw:
A glorious reconciliation
Between my desires and your intentions.
But when I opened them again,
It just wasn’t the same;
I borrowed hope from a daydream,
And have lived in misery ever since.

“It’s all in your head”,
On repeat to forestall entropy,
My mind’s in two places at once,
Needing more -
Incessantly yearning for more,
Yet overcome with gratitude
That I should receive anything at all.

Do others feel like this every time?
As if it’s something of actual substance,
A real reason to yearn,
A real reason to hunger,
As if for another form of sustenance.
Do others feel like this with a passing glance?
As if you’ve known them from the start,
A true sense of familiarity,
A true sense of belonging,
As if they’ve always weighed on your heart.
Do others feel like this every time?

I never had.