only almost here

it is not until i begin feeling for something different that i realise everything i felt before was not as great as i always perceived them to be. lately i have developed a certain compulsion to travel back inside my heart because i dont know how to feel, don't know what to see, i don't know what to think about when static silence becomes dominant. its presence so prominent, i flinch inwards black and blue; so that now, eventually, i have learned to detach myself from so many things. tiptoe across the room of broken glasses of cynicsm to retreat inside my head, inside the safest and most concrete of all places, surrounding the walls and building foundations. and even now and a minute ago, while a certain chord progresses with... maybe a catchy lyric line here or two, the rain still falls down in a certain carefully formulated interval, going through tunnels, choppy but endless tunnels, more grey, more lights, more blurry. the past few nights have been warm and the air too still; where i had recurring dreams of walking from door to door when very suddenly i am hit, blindsided, and - -