My body tenses when I'm around other people
I become a muddling mess when I have to do something against my instinct.
Is this what it's like to feel alive?

I can feel the pain of an immunization even when I'm not getting one,
If I try hard enough I can feel it go into my veins.
Is this what it's like to feel alive?

Why does it hurt so much.

“Listen”
Ticks the clock.
“I am perfect, pure, and patient.”
“Listen”
“And perfection, be on time.”

The clock
Is perfect.
It is simply the purest thing in this room of imperfects.
The broken frame on the wall,
That longs for a picture of a loving family or couple.
The fire pit,
Choked in smoke and charcoal.
The clock,
Perfect
Ticking into everlasting eternity, endless in the rhythm.
“Listen”
“And perfection, be on time.”

The door,
Leaning on two hinges,
Moans and opens.
The clock ticks on.
A woman walks inside,
And lay down in the middle of the rundown, ruined room.
That is perfect itself.
The clock ticks on.
“Listen to meeeeeee…”
The woman ignores.
“Listen to meeeeeee…I am perfect”
The woman ignores again, and looks around the room.
Admiring all of the imperfections.
The clock, out of anger, ticks furiously,
And falls.
“Listen” ticks the clock, for the last time.
“And perfection, be on time...I-I...I am perfect.”
Even those so perfect,
Can fall and break.
Even those so perfect
Should “Listen”
“And perfection, will be on time.”
The woman lay peacefully in this room of imperfection and broken pieces.
**And it is perfect.

Pirouette through a graphite cocoon
Fixed clutch
Temporary disdain
Feeling undeserving of a lockdown
Car crash smile

The violin plays
When the clock strikes twelve,
So let's go off and think
Of things on shelves.

The piano plays
When the clock strikes one
So let's go off
And have some fun.

The voices play
When the clock strikes two
I have no idea
What I'm going to do.

The cello plays
When the clock strikes three.
But don't take time
To think of me.

The Sun rises up
When the clock strikes four
I dance and dance
And dance some more.

The Sun is up
By the time it's five.
And the world starts to slowly
Come alive.

The silence falls
When the clock strikes six
So I'm going off
To gather some sticks.

The twigs all break
As I make my nest
And lay my weary
Head to rest.

As the Sun sets,
And the World says goodnight
I wake up
And shine up bright.