I had thought I’d be dead by now.

That’s been hard to get used to.
Now, don’t tempt me with a good time
Lost enough relishing in this missed-pain you scratched on my back
Because this isn’t like before, with a beginning, middle, and end.
It’s perpetually the middle now.
But to miss something is never to have had it in the first place
So I’m feeling lucky now I guess
Like when you bend down to tie your shoe just before hearing gunshots across the street.
Yet there are those memories, you know, that you have to scream out loud to get away from.
Since as much that’s given is as much taken
There are no excuses or any amount of apologizing to recover time given, taken, or wasted.
And though time and space is the brand of belt I wear around my pants
I’m still sorry.
No motives, just mistakes.