Race Car

Niggas have mastered the art of head-space invasion!

Nowadays you only make an appearance at the perfect time and suddenly my train of thought stops in its tracks.
Thought patterns at a cul-de-sac , the speaker gets one distraction and in a minute there's verbal accidents.

Officer I...I...he...
He blocked my path! I couldn't see straight, 
I mean I...I couldn't see anything in　the room BUT him so I spent the rest of the night ducking conversation and dodging eye contact just to make sure I got to Dignity safe! I swear I was under the drinking limit! Only two glasses of wine and　lots of socializing in between. And I was fine until THIS obstacle had me swerving around company and cutting shoulders just to think straight, right until he caught me dead in my tracks, throwing a conversation curve-ball right across the room aimed directly at me.

Before long my wheel had rolled off and I was babbling aimlessly as if I'd suffered injury to my head. This proper-girl  lady-like-and-prudish fort giving way  to a flood of giggles and embarrassed blushes.

I'm not actually enjoying this.
Like any self-esteemed fine driver I abruptly readjusted the wheel and promptly sealed the conversation.

You could swear I was a race-car, the way I need the chase.

And swiftly trailing off to another end of the room to make small talk I left him there, probably wondering if either of us was modelled right for the other or whether that brief conversation was a hit or miss.

In the morning I'm replaying   the accident in my mind worried that it may never happen again. Wondering if schizophrenic race-cars actually get chases or if they end up miserably managing the traffic in their heads.
So I get my phone out and send a text, hoping that I can pave a clean path for us to stroll on

Only...

You don't seem to remember anything about about the accident. Its Schizophrenia meets Alzheimer's! Or was it Dumb& Dumber and the Bullshit?
Either way, I'm thanking my lucky stars that I wasn't Fast & Furious because now it looks like you would've been Gone in 60 seconds. 

Untitled

If my mind was a garden
I wonder if it would sprout
with memories of you
and thoughts
of us.
Could I cultivate a future?
Plant it here in my brain
and bear the fruits in real life?

Your love-seeds  are safe in my heart.
They're here, growing slowly.
They're here, buried beneath all this
rush-and-toil, run-a-bout collecting stones for our graves.
This cycling on a wheel of plastic existence chasing paper that  burns and burns and burns...

Fuelling the couldron of existence
Like hellfire.
Born to　burn.
Born to power the machine.
Born as energy for an existence we go ceasing to know.
So abstract, our realities become a distraction, we can no longer figure out  what we are here for.
Except in dreams.
In dreams these visions blossom uninhibited.
While I am asleep, I know. 

If my mind was a garden
I wonder if it would sprout
with memories of you
and thoughts
of us
Could I cultivate
our future?