Today is Tuesday.
The Sun is bright but the air is a bitter cold – my head feels numb – stomach pains
The hotel is cheap, but the employees are overly sweet
They get too many grumpy people, I think
I sleep in my clothes, with my shoes on and my bag packed – there’s no time
As fast as the moving truck will fly through bat country – stopping only for gas and piss
In front of me is two thousand miles of uncharted territory,
an impatient family who use the phrase “Settle Down” – like a lot,
too many unspoken words and broken promises
Behind me is four years of self mutilation, a dying dream, and a virus…
The horizon endless in either direction
Three hours of sleep and a vicious head cold that may or may not be…
smothering my hands in Vitamin C and gulping down hand sanitizer – wait
Where am I? What day is it?
Today is Wednesday. New Mexico.
Crossing state lines, time zones, political hunting grounds and feral fanbases
Every mile marker I think of the thousands of acres, the millions of people,
countless stories I’ll never know, never explore, never understand
From the very country I call home – we are all strangers
The journey feels longer when you don’t know where you’re going
Harder to breathe when you’re always running from something
Dry sandy air screams through the broken A/C vents – makes it even harder
the changes in altitude and temperature pummel my beaten body
I just wanna get home – but what will I come home to?
Dream killers and lessons on the working class
“You belong here, not over there”
“You tried/gave it your best/it wasn’t meant to be/now you can get a real job”
Never accepted, and I’m just supposed to accept it?
The cowards final stand, the last temptation
You ever get the feeling you’re trapped in someone else’s story?
Had to stop for some fresh air – reset prospective
But man – you can’t beat that view