Double Yellow Line

I’m breathing, into my run-

I live on an old country road-

there are hills and cows,

but rarely a car have I know’d.

I feel this pressure for speed.

I feel all around me, their eyes

breathing is deeper, some labor

yet, no meaning in what I find.


this thing, the cause, has no name

though- easy to place words in spots

I can point blame, with great aim

for awhile, to stand in for what I got.

I’ve lost the feel of pit-pat,

this quiet road now has such noise

things sometimes get like that

no tires… shouts of an internal voice.


I’m impressed with it’s consistent spells

that’s the key, to successful sprees

across all the fields, and hills, and the dells

consistency runs away from me.

I can catch it for months at a time

but you know it can move, never does quit

it’s small, like a second or dime

at first you won’t miss it a bit.


after some moons come and go

no government mule, but man, I can pull!

realize forsaken, stars for the show

how to dig out of this lull?

I got hungry, but only saw food.

what would satisfy a mind so undone?

I was tired, but not in the mood-

for sleep, or kindness, or love.


It’s funny how you know at the time…

from strength you can see paradigm

and turn anyway to the far, far away

to the place where it’s all in delay.

I can blink and miss the whole day-

’till for an hour or so, when I go

away from linked moments smeared across, grey

and run. and run. and run. and whoah!


up ahead I can see situations

back there, stares every one

how my malfunctions, came to fruition

and I’m brewing it all with a buzz.

this kind comes from such effort

this kind comes with pain and pleasure

this time I’m not on the retort

just letting off some of the pressure.


it’s inside, so tight, detonated

each blast seems sloppy and foolish

building roads take time for creation

despite what timelines we wish.

my feet are covered in mud

my heart rate races because

my thoughts are always on pace

with the fear all over this place.


I’ve read about the building of brains-

I know that some remnants remain-

and I know that exertion, followed by learning

is the way to recover that burning…

feeling inside my soul

like when all the streets looked like gold

and when my heart was too big

that you said, I was just a big kid.


well, now, I’m grown and well learned

in the lessons of cynical burns

and depression is sure a true thing.

and depression is sure a true thing.



the songs all left for awhile

just darkness with ambiguous turmoil

where the path looks so clear, you forgot about tears

until you love asks why don’t you feel.

now I run down the middle of this street

I can react by placing my feet

if danger is there, I’ll meet it there

leave that side lane for breakdowns and despair.


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