43 years, 2 months and 18 days of pugilism

I catch myself staring at ceilings.
I don’t know more than I think that I do.
She should be so much further I tell myself, so much stronger by now.
If you care you’re stupid too.
I think everybody in every car around me is watching me drive and judging.
I’m so far away from home now but I don’t know where home ever was.
She should be so much thinner I tell myself, so much sexier by now.
If you care, you’re just as lost.
I heard what you said but I’m busy trying to figure out what you meant.
I think I’m pretty enough until a pretty person shows up.
She should be so much closer to being wise, I tell myself, so much more resilient by now.
If you care you’re stupid too.
I like to chew things up and then spit them into my hands for inspection.
My mind wakes up a full hour before my body does already talking shit.
She should be famous or something close to it in somebody’s mind by now.
If you care, you’re just as lost.
I catch myself imagining what my life would be like if you’d let me love you.
Love sounds so good right about now, I think.
She’s just alive and foolish and a broken love sick little girl just like she always was, even now.
If you care, let me know…

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3 thoughts on “43 years, 2 months and 18 days of pugilism

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