RV Station

There are days when I feel like doing nothing.

When a chair, a cup of something warm and sugary and filled with goodness,
a book of yellowing pages with a smell of their own,
a blanket that is riddled with the embrace of affection, a reminder that I am indeed not alone
and nostalgia among all other things,
become my companions of choice.
I stare out into nothing,
stare at the skies but look at things beyond it all,
stare at the wall but be living memories from long ago,
stare at the cup in which the liquid’s gone cold,
stare at the outside but grapple with storms within,
stare at worldly virtues but be thinking about my sins,
Such are the days when I feel like doing nothing.

And, there are days when I feel like doing everything.

Chores ramp up one after another,
taking out a minute to breathe is a bother
So much that needs hustle, so much to achieve
Stressing so much as if the world relies on me
But it doesn’t, and yet I feel so hurried.
I strive for speed, I try to exceed,
The growing hunger insider for ticking marks against a box,
it’s a need to finish but not a drive to succeed
It’s just there, like a map inside the confines of my mind
I see what needs getting done and I am making a routine,
This after That and Then That and Then That too and to get it all done, Oh I am so keen
But the rush, that’s just me
The world never stopped, it never burned, it didn’t shrink
That’s just me on the days when I feel like doing everything

Sometimes, both these days fall on the same day.

Mish-mash. A jungle. Chaos running wild inside my head.
Do I stop? Do I run? Do I take a minute or banish everything and focus or just…
Just give up!
Find a corner, dig a hole, block it all, protect my soul,
banish the thoughts racing in my mind,
put a leash on the hound, put a stop to this grind.
Just stop. For once. Blissful idea. But not an option.
Because it is not the world against me, it is in fact my mind against my mind
It is the desire to lay back and the urge to complete things, the inclination to stop and the impulse to charge,
The contradiction is inside me, this is how I was designed
Or conditioned. Or adapted. Or whatever that can be said

Everything is a blinding light in the face of someone barely awake
When both those days fall on the same day.