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