I’m feeling mental these days.
Not insane. Cerebral.
Not losing my mind—
lost within it.
Two seconds:
the held breath before a lover’s eyes find yours,
the frozen instant when a door swings wide to “Surprise!”
Just before those words land like a punch,
when you swallow too hard and the world goes white.
The fraction between a bullet’s entry
and the genuflection of begging absolution.
The hush before a newborn screams into existence,
and the terrible quiet that follows the dying.
We spin on this worn rock,
living like it matters.
Then everything tips—
dreams realign, foundations crack.
Darkness or light, makes no difference:
two seconds to detonate a life.
The skid on black ice,
the moment your last paycheck clears.
Laughter moving through branches,
asking your father for the keys.
The opening notes of something sacred,
a stranger’s gaze that stays past comfortable.
Panic climbing your throat,
the sickening knowledge that time is bleeding out faster than you can plug it.
The instant you pull someone higher,
the moment you turn your back on loyalty.
That final exhale
when the end finally arrives.
Every word that cracks someone open,
every conversation that stumbles and falls.
Every lesson you’ve taught another,
every wound that refuses to scar over.
Spin on this tired stone,
playing at permanence.
Then the axis breaks,
everything reshapes.
Two seconds.
I’m feeling mental these days.
Not insane. Cerebral.
Not losing my mind—
lost within it.