Lying
wide asleep, fast awake
vivid explosure slows
and shows
full disclosure, there’s not many who know her
for who she really is
A face before its baptised by morning
bleeding gums rotting lungs bed crumbs search history
regrets hidden away in unread books kinks and mysteries
internal monologue pillow talk a disarray of leaked promises
a catastrophe awaits
can’t manage time or money
always in a hurry
not really busy but never free
she is consciousness
she summertime
she is vanity
And even when her mind is anarchy
she is an open wound with all her insanity
a sweet hyperbole
so don’t take her too literally
as bold as a secret told in a whisper
and exiled for her audacity
as ferocious as they’ll let her be
and in an instant it falls short
she rarely utilities silence
but asks ‘do you talk to your thoughts?’
whether empty or optimistic
they’re ready, to present predicaments
lost to the night-time
she dreamt she was at crescent, longing to be full
its no coincidence she fains to the moons pull
A gatherer; fables of youth unstable to their intentions
solutions consumed by a draft that keeps
inherent phobias locked away
there’s a stray child with your voice in her head
you hush to comprehend her
a creator you made her
meander to your agenda
she’ll never be you
she’s wrapped up in
a plague of shame
a carousel of what makes her afraid
around and around again
deranged, insane and maniacally to blame
till theres a bittersweet beauty to every colour she can name
but colour exists within her
a short rush of boxed up souls stretching to the sky
a race of who can outlast the pace of august
and curtsy at the contrast
the mind infiltrates the gifts it gives
and she knows happiness is not a tap
her anxiety not a conviction to her minds confliction
a catastrophe awaits
wide asleep, fast awake
she will give all that she takes