Stepping off for what feels like the 100th time into a sudden vacuum of noise and odour and
hard to explain but almost angry
There are seemingly thousands of routes and subroutes and fork-split-decisions-make-memories
And I overthink each and every one of them
So it
slows
down
so much that I
lose time
lose
lose
lose
And I’m well aware that I’m gaslighting myself
as no, I can’t control time or space at will
No matter how hard I try to pry back the inevitable like a weakened bar in a cell
worn down by effort, frustration and anger from years and year
I can’t
it won’t budge
That ever-present permanence, in-yer-face you can’t change it
So I just
stop