Flat on the Mat
I’m tired from things I had to do – that you didn’t make me – you were just being you.
I’m all used up from pushing so hard – to get there, to be there, to go the nine yards.
Again and again the pull of the norm; the done thing, tradition, weathering each storm.
No one knowing how unnatural it felt to never have nothing but what’s in my head.
So quiet now is needed more than before to make up for years of locking its door.
Taking what’s needed like a famine starved hound and taking extra while hitting the ground.
How long can I lie here? Can it please be forever?
I don’t want to be like That again ever –
That busy and shaky and buzzy and tired, and hopelessly desperate because I’m not wired
Like you and like them and the ones who set rules. Who mingle in parties and offices and schools.
Applaud me for trying, for getting a first on how to behave though it made me feel worse.
But please understand it took more than too much and I’m not even me now it sapped me such
That here I am begging: “I can’t carry on but I can’t even tell you because it feels so wrong – To crave that much quiet and empty and slow.
And will you understand?
I really don’t know.”