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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Rocked on the Hook Sometimes on the highway I feel like I want to lay my head on the wheel and close my eyes, Or in the supermarket when the cashier counts the change I feel like tearing through the silence, In the morning when I wake up I don't want to dress and face the seasons and their skies, I want to stay in bed three days and three nights without caring about the violence. At a red light when no one's around I feel the pull to press the gas and go, And then I wonder why I'm permitted to drive a car on roads with other souls, Why I'm allowed to stop and start and turn just like the old lady in the green Ford slow, Just like everyone else who seems to know what they're doing without fearing holes. At night I wake and stare out at the darkness that is breathing on the glass, And my confusion sits beside me piled up like a stack of worn-out tires in the cold, It is a solid and faithful presence the only constant that will never pass, More real than anything I touch and heavier than anything I try to unfold. I am haunted by the small things others do without a second thought or care, I sit at midnight wanting to light a cigarette and keep lifting empty matchbooks dry, I open them and stare into their hollow space as if the answer's hiding there, Someone else would have a lighter someone else would sleep through the soft night nearby. And suddenly I remember the woman I lived with for three years inside the chaos, She could do all the little things without confusion without stopping in the middle, Without asking herself why and for whom while standing frozen at a loss, She probably still can, while I keep searching for a match to solve the riddle.
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