There is a Cerberus in me,
chained, like a captive.
The breathing of the anxious beast,
it makes my head quake when I forget
about getting old or watching lovers die.
The three heads argue with themselves
in my stomach, rattling my bones,
pulling on the chains, trying to agree.
The more I sit still, the more it wants
me to just go and never stop,
to keep running and running
in three different directions,
against my instinct. Whenever I stop,
to catch my breath, I feel the teeth
ripping at anything that they can reach.
The beast that guards the gates of hell
has dug a hole inside my inhibitions.
Anyone else have a beast within?
My sister fell, at the neighborhood pool,
on the cement, instead of into opal water.
She said the **** on her knee
looked just like a maraschino cherry.
Red like a maraschino cherry,
or a clown's nose,
or like the fire
in the center of our planet.
The ****** **** dripped cherry juice
down her leg
in between her sun burnt toes,
evaporating off of the cement.
She reminded me of lava,
The reaper of flowers
and ice cream cones.
Red cheeks, red like Geryon.
and always wondering.
I hope I can answer any questions
she has, when the need
to know evolves to thirst,
and the fears she has now
as a little lava girl
become fears that we all feel
as destroyers in our own lives,
reaping the flowers
that are growing
in the ashes of our youth.
I feel lonely often.
I feel like the tide pulling back,
on every single day,
that I don't get
a minute to myself.
I feel like the white rabbit,
the clock is always ticking
and my heart beats fast
to the rhythm of aging.
The breathing of the anxious beast
holds me close to it's lungs
like chains on a captive.
Do you ever just work so much and want to sleep so much and nothing works
It sounds like a pet shop
in my head, the twitching
tongues of birds, the spinning
of rodent’s wheels, the tap
of reptiles on the glass.
The animals never stop living
inside my head.
On some days it feels like chaos,
like they’re all running free,
running free inside my head
while the world burns inside it
Anybody else ever have to extinguish a runaway train of thought?
It's a strange thing to look inside yourself
and see darkness, black oil bubbling
with animal feathers floating,
drowning in the thick.
I feel like a well, with nothing but depth
with no one to pull me out, no rope
to even hang myself with.
When you sit in the darkness
with wings too sticky to fly out
you see faces and reflections
that take your mind and stretch it
into unrecognizable shapes.
I am stuck in the oil
of my compressed stress.
I have been having incredibly dark thoughts
we start the day again
as though sleep is just a memory,
the wheel keeps spinning
Here it comes again,
The feeling i had hoped i’d forget.
The hands in my brain, fingers twisting
pretzel knots out of memories,
squeezing out life juice and blood
like a butcher’s wash cloth.
I had really hoped i’d never feel
this feeling again, the feeling
of looking at something beautiful
from behind a glass.
Can you even see me anymore?