Poets logo

In a bed, full of dread

Realizations of universal connection.

By CTBPublished 2 years ago 1 min read
4

Heavy is the head, as I stare through the ceiling

waiting

for the energy of yesterday to fill the suit I live in,

eternally disconnected from the person I am

day to day.

Each different.

Each the same.

It’s as though I am fueled by the peak of the highs,

awaiting confirmation from an outstretched hand from

nowhere

that the joy of yesterday was not a trick.

It was all so good

once.

Or maybe twice.

I’m sure three times if I surrendered to what is true.

Yesterday told me who I was.

Today told me who I am not

and tomorrow will show me everything I am

in between

the lines that separate the hours

from the minutes.

Waiting.

Weighing

the weight of my head on a pillow,

dreaming about when I had it all figured out,

even though I am a thinker,

sometimes too much,

too dark

too deep

reinforced by a world trying to erase

the shame of experience.

The joy of experience.

The need for experience.

But as I reach for the hand from nowhere

I see my same tattooed fingers

and I finally understand

That I give

and take

from the very root of myself and hope

that tomorrow

I will connect again.

inspirational
4

About the Creator

CTB

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time."

All things philosophy, magic, humanity, and emotion.

-NYC-

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.