I’m over thinking again,
The matter is not grey.
It’s a red screaming sports car,
demanding attention, constant incoherence, engine-revving,
and not in gear.
Repeating, repeating, repeating
the same track,
Round, round, round,
‘til heated metal burns
and at the turns,
the car flies off its needle.
into the sofa
onto the floor.
It’s not suprising
I’m over analysing.
On the brink of something.
A cliff edge?
There’s nothing technically wrong.
Everything is wrong.
A physical pain.
What is a runner who cannot run?
A player who cannot play?
I still function, but badly.
There’s no escape,
no let up,
no relief or release.
When the things that scare me come,
I cannot run
but round we go.
There are a few things you should know before you commit.
You’ll notice the dancing, the tapping of feet, the wiggling of the head to a beat out of reach of human ears. You’ll be looking around and straining to find the source of the sound.
It’s just the soundtrack in my head playing constantly. Every day, all day.
Many times, so many times, I’ve thought my iPod or radio was playing only to find it wasn’t. It’s the radio station broadcasting in my brain. Sometimes it plays fragments of songs, sometimes whole tracks, once or twice a whole album.
If you find it difficult to get my attention it’s because the music is too loud. To be honest it gets pretty noisy. It makes it difficult to concentrate on occasion.
The only way to block it out is to hold my full attention (you know what that means)… or to put some music on.
But hey, it could be worse, at least I don’t hear screaming voices…plus there’s always something to dance to.