roundabouts

Most times I don’t even realize
Passing days before my eyes
And if I wouldn’t feel so tired
I’d nearly say is morning time.
When I don’t work I get caught in
Surfing websites, writing lines
Staring out with empty eyes
Thinking of exciting plans…

And I am waiting
And keep waiting, waiting for the day to pass
Or so it seems…
Until is 5.

Then cycling is sensorial
Consciousness only defined
By colours, scents, the taste of lime
Smelling spring, enjoy the sun.
But hilariously, when I’m home
I wait for the next day to come
So every day to work and back
I cycle the same roundabout.

But I am missing
And keep missing, missing warmness of a touch
Or so it seems…
And I feel white.

And sometimes talk and talk and talk…
Hoping sounds will fill my hole
The echoes ease my loneliness
Like tears are washing heaviness.
Some feelings wouldn’t let me rest
So I dug space within my chest
I’m peaceful now when I can hear
The beating sounds of emptiness.

Now I am nowhere
Nowhere else then where I want, I am the rhythm of my heart
Or so it seems…
In roundabouts.