A few inches off

When did the sun start shining out of streetlamps?

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Then there's my heart: a piece of it traveled upstairs into my thoughts.

It's moving my whole body--swaying like a breeze is trying to rock me to sleep.

It's telling me something wrong, but all I see is the stillness of the world passing by while I sit in the passenger seat.

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It's hard to explain...

My soul is out of place, outside my body, back to chest.

Did I get lost on my way to a dream?

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My nails are digging into my skin, but I can't feel the sting.

Am I dyin'?

Is this what it is?

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How do I put my soul back?

Is it like wrangling a whale, seawater splashing my face, or is it more like a puzzle piece?

I'm holding on tight while my mind is trying to let go. Trying to step over an unknown threshold.

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I remember being told to count out loud.

Don't know why cause who would want those to be their last words, though I'll try anything at this point.

The night hides the trees well enough. Maybe I'll count streetlamps.

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But the air's getting thick.

I can't breathe this all in.

There's too much in my chest: it's overfilling, expanding, while the ba-dum--ba-dum reaches, spreads, knocking at my door that's a few inches back.

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The voices from the radio are muffled, far away, like someone is holding them hostage in a casket.

But when I say, "Oh God," it echo's through the car.

It's cause my soul is almost gone, and my mind is looking over a cliff, down to endless waters, while I hold on with numb fingers.

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I need to pull my soul back.

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The world is passing by with no dead end in sight.

I'm moving through the breeze that tells me to persevere.

And that piece of my heart reminds me I'm still here.

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So, I try to count, but it's too bright to see cause the sun is shining out of streetlamps.