Driven To Distraction

Everything laid out.
I stare down at all the elements of work.
And nothing makes sense.
I cannot seem to add it all together,
keeping my hands clasped tightly at my sides.
As though to touch anything would set it all alight.
I have so much to do...
I'm always busy...
Why the fuck isn't it working?!

"Distraction..."


The word lingers in the air, in my ears...
I cannot seem to swallow the advice I so wisely dish out.
Maybe I'm just too intent on a single point,
"Quizas, quizas...quizas..."
Submerged in the swimming pool my mind was blank.
Blank.
Only in the warmth of my dry clothes did thought
seep back in, claiming my mind for it's assassination.
I cannot drown myself out endlessly.
I will shrivel into nothing.
I'm tired of being wrong.
Fighting against this demon that must live within my DNA.
Leading me astray.
Stealing away my heart to places that seemingly will only lead
to it's fracture.

I think, about moving.
But I cannot convince myself of its difference
from running away. So I weight myself down,
despite my hearts resistant palpitations.
Screaming some shit about adventure...
I contemplate alcoholism.
I contemplate self medication of all kinds.
but I'm just fucking fooling myself.
I'm too self aware for all that bollocks.
I can't do it. I'm not low.Just foolish and rejected.
I no longer wish to push myself until I break again.
Jabbing myself in the ribs until I fold.
I don't think I could, even if I tried, some kind of child lock's
been installed on my self destruct lever.
I used to think there was only one level of darkness,
and that was where I was always heading.
it was inevitable. I was full of shit.
A terrible human being.
And in the dark was where I belonged.
It takes as long as it takes to get to realisation.
I do not believe you can say "if only I had known then what I..."
Now I see not every knock will take me down.
in the depths of my stomach, somewhere warm and safe.
I keep those things I should remember. My perspective.
Buried now deep enough from the surface that they don't scratch
against what is present.

But for fucks sake....

Why can't I just have what I want.

which right now, is enough strength to open the percolator so I can have a fucking coffee.
bloody bunny whoring cousin of a goat.