My body floats away
From this crowded room
You are here
And there are things to talk about
After the walls come down
And you show up,
Again
Counterproductive
Always living at the edge
Heartless and reckless
Never knowing when
You’ve had enough,
When you’ve pushed too far
But none of this is real
Turn my head and clear my throat
Just a time-filler,
Waster, Player of too many games
Over-analyze
Taking note, so later there can be
Adjustments
Adjustments to this slipping away,
This turning away
Always lost and floating
And oh, so
Counterproductive
© Dicky J Loweman 2015
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