And it’s sort of funny how
we are where we are now
when it seemed we’d never make it
out of Boston

And if you would have asked us then
we wouldn’t have known when;
the thought of getting out alive
was not an option

A makeshift bed
in a familiar room
a lingering, pervasive
overwhelming sense of doom

The hum of a fan
The creak of the floor
The subtle insecurity
of needing something more

The light through the window
The rain on the glass
The absolute uncertainty
of how long this will last

A fitful night’s sleep
A brand new resolve:
If I don’t try and do this now
I won’t do it at all

None of the bitter,
just all of the sweet
when something feels this right

Might be a winner
might be in too deep
but won’t know til I try

I want to slow the pace of things
and just see what the days will bring
but every passing hour holds
the weight of obligations

And even when I schedule time
that’s cordoned off and truly mine
I’m constantly bombarded by
the snowballing frustrations

I’m tired, but I can’t relax
the volume of the world’s on max
I know I’m not the only one
but it’s still isolating

My plans are always undercut
I’m lacking optimism but
I know all I can really do
is breathe
and keep creating