Burnt out or Burnt up? Is there a difference?

So rundown can't do anything other than focus on that fact. My thoughts run on one track, some lapping others while others crawl to go full circle. But no matter the speed or the distance the perspective never changes. The grass was once green inside the perimeter of the rubbery surface, but the sun beats down on the area left unprotected by the absence of trees. I think one of the sprinkler heads broke, that must be it, otherwise the turf would be lush and kelly green. If I have to look at the same surroundings everyday then I want them to be thriving; living and not dying. But the sun keeps beating down, but the grass doesn't have SPF to protect it, it can't photosynthesize fast enough. The grass browns and I look down to see I'm sunburnt. This one track mind ages me from all the sun damage. I need cataracts from squinting my eyes constantly. Brainwaves don't like running they like surfing so my mind only finds solace on the web. Oh what a tangled web we weave...

Must force my thoughts to ride the rails. If I have to be on one track at least let if be a train track that way I can travel linearly, all these circles make my head spin. All the running makes me collapse, I need to sit down for a while, maybe look out as the sunflower fields pass by. Need to find a new relativity. Everything looks the same to me now. It's been a year isn't it time for change, change of scenery at least, at the very least.

Who are you? You intrigue me so. I know you are wearing a mask, I suppose the tie shields the really you from escaping. Talk to me, say something. I can hear you screaming inside, the screech drives me mad. Let it out, let me in. Curiosity kills this cat. There must be more to you. You're trapped like the butterflies in my stomach. I thought I saw you looking, did you look, could you see? I'm wearing a disguise as well. Do you think there might be a possibility that we could both have x-ray vision? If only I could see you and you could see me. Crazy talk, I know, but could it be? Talk to me, say something. Let your voice kill the noise in my head. I'm projecting, I always do that. Setting myself up for failure. The butterflies emerge from the cocoons as regrets fluttering turns into a sinking feeling. But I digress.

If I close my lids I can feel your eyes; glancing, glaring, and one can only hope, starring. This character does not exist but within the realm of my imagination. Yet, you're real merely my portrayal becomes false. If only, if only. Why can't you be everything I never knew I always wanted? But mostly, and for the first time in my life, I want to know the truth. I want the fluttering to be justified, I need the regrets to be nullified. Talk to me. Stop speaking volumes in the silence. Tension vibrates becoming only a sound that dogs can hear. Don't use the knife to cut my heart out, I can do it on my own with a spoon.

Delusion results from the burn. Burnt, spent, exhausted. How can one follow their heart when the brain sprints ahead to set the pace. Where am I? I can't even tell one from the other, I just get up and go. Going and going, my battery not lasting as long as the energizer bunny. But then what is the thumping sound if not the pounding of the drum? Idle fantasy becomes the only fuel that keeps my motor running. Always running. I should really get some fertilizer for the grass or at least replace it with sod, heck even astroturf would do.