Procrastination

The walls are moving in place, coming closer and I can feel their dusty breath. Light flakes off the windows and creates a shimmy of memory down my side view. They keep playing the same songs like my heart keeps playing the same tricks. Repetition creates a soft strength, one easily sucked away by weakness. Things stack and build across a feeble waffle of idealism. Past mistakes make a quick sprint across my vision. Wince if you will, won't do any good. Everyone does it.

To whom it may concern;
I am writing this because I am concerned for you. You seem distant. You don't see what is in front of you.I don't know you. You have no idea who I am. Does it matter? When you have to say something it doesn't really matter who you tell. There is a list of names that I don't want to see again. There are flashes of memory that make me cringe.There are moments that I wish I could rewind and repeat. There are some people, some folks I wish I could wrapup and keep in my pocket. There are words that I won't even share with myself. Softly I will lay across my days, from here on, and know what it was all for. Winking at what was raw, sighing for that deep living yet to come. There is no word to describe it, roll it up. So I will just say one, Love