The smoke passing over the scar on the inside of my throat from the tracheotomy I had 8 years ago is somewhat chunky tonight. Almost feels like that raised portion of inside flesh has grown bigger over the years.
My heart is beating abnormally, as usual, but tonight, somehow it's a soothing beat that my ticker is kickin'. But I ain't got no reason why. I haven't had a reason for a soothing beat for quite a few years.
My mind, scrambled and just as confused as usual, for some reason, is beginning to make sense and I can see that the life I've been livin' these past ocho ano's ain't really the exact way I envisioned the life I wanted to live. But I keep livin' it like it is.
The collectors of light that are the front of my face have grown weary and they're beginning to miss things. Maybe they're missing things because I wouldn't be able to handle or accept those things if I did see them. I dunno.
The noises that whisper into my ears are muffled, almost scuffed by, what it seems, some sort of blockage device placed over the inner tubes. Maybe I'm just gettin' old. Maybe I don't wanna hear 'em.
But my fingers still find the places they need to be. And my hands hold my baby tightly. I don't need to see you, to play you, baby. Nor do I need to hear you, to know that you're there. And if my mind were clean and stable, I would've never fallen in love with you oh so many years ago.
You've got nothing to worry about my love. I'll place you in your case to protect you and carry you home soon enough.
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