the train of thought

(note: the following post may be depressing and/or disorienting) 

the train of thought turned into a stream once.  

then it slowed to a trickle.

the meter of life slowly drops down low enough to read it,

just in time to let me know what that means.

I am the worst of all men, but I don't believe it.

I believe it all too well, and it freezes me.

There is nothing I can do, my fists keep clenched,

and my, hard, head, keeps bending down to charge the line.

There is nothing I can do, and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.

Hands other than mine are reaching in and changing the workings

There is nothing I can do, and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.

Is there a point? or is this just one of those times that doesn't, and won't, make sense?  futility.  I'm better than anyone I know.  Now that I believe, but I shouldn't.  I'm better than anyone I know.  Now that is a lie.  dirty lie.  and helpless carries more meaning than I can say.  

There is only one thing that can make me sane again.  my head knows what that is.  

still playing catch up.  my family is broke.  thankful for hope.  

like a sunburnt goth I live in denial of everything hopeful in this world, but some of my greatest pain seems to reveal my greatest need.