There’s this craving that won’t be satiated no matter what I did, no matter where I went. The soul seems seeking something I do not know. How can I look for something when I do not know what I am looking for? This feeling. It’s weird. It’s outlandish. And yet deeply familiar. Like it’s meant to haunt my days like this.
A feeling that’s chasing the more I run.
Everywhere I turn, there are eyes loaded with gloom and there’s nothing I can do to take that away. These faces have no mouths and yet they talk. The words they utter seem from a different world. They have no sound. How am I to comprehend something I can’t even hear? Yet I try. They laugh at me, them muffled words. I laugh at them because I am afraid.
A laughter that I hope can guise my fear.
The mind is working overtime, all the time. Doesn’t take a breather, that tiresome bitch. Won’t rest, won’t allow me some jest. And I keep hoping that the river will bend. Leading me to where I want to be, rather than where I ought to be. Books, walks, friends, talks, don’t mean much right now. If I can put my mind to peace, I may somehow match up the pace.
A pace that gets faster the more I try to reach.