Poor circulation pt 5

Everybody has bits and pieces

Pieces of me

Those pieces were taken far from here

So I went hiking to find them

The little ones

The big ones

I must have been blind

I hiked 527 miles

I only heard the pieces calling out to me

In the music I was listening to

I heard them sing of better times

Times Ive lost 

Times with her

Times with friends

Times with direction

Times with purpose

I let them borrow those pieces of me

and they never gave them back

So I sit strapped to a chair and watch my life in black in white up on a projector

or ill listen to my life on a record player

But I'm tortured

By the repeating sound and picture

of my time with you