Smithology

Life is compressed into a series of moments. There is nothing in between. I move from one place to another like turning a corner. Ninety degrees, instantaneous, like light hitting a mirror. My mind thinks only of what’s next, what’s next, what’s next. There is no future or past, only time. Work, sleep, eat, drive, parent, read, watch, process, click. I can’t stand silence, I’m impatient standing still, I fill all of the gaps with something, anything. Nobody reaches me because I can’t be found, I am nowhere and no-one. I just am. I watch too much BSG. It makes me go all serious. Sleep seems like a good idea right now. Anything is better than this poetry.

bsg, poetry, sleep