A terrible feeling's come over me. I don't know, it just struck me like a bad cold last night while I was riding my bike home from work some time around midnight. I can't shake it, this sudden anxiousness, something's wrong. That feeling's been with me all day, the feeling that something's wrong. Something's changed or else my imagination's playing tricks on me. It's bubbling dread at the thought of being left in the lurch, like I'm waiting at the train station, flowers in hand, for an empty train. I hope to God I'm wrong. I hope it's the devil playing with my mind. I hope I'm not losing it. I haven't had a drink or a smoke in three days, and now dialogue's running away in my head.
The horses are loose. They're on the lam, rushing towards freedom or whatever's outside of the pen, save for one still waiting, still loyal, still sure that she'll be there when it's all over and the storm abates and the skies quiet their rolling thunder. I pray she's still there in nine days. I swear I'll be good.
What if that's not good enough? What if she's sick and tired of it, of me and everything bad she's built up on top of me. It feels like she's cutting the tow lines. That's what it is.
I'm adrift.
I can't sleep at night.
I only lie in bed,
awake,
just thinking about her,
and then
trying not to.
