There's no room for happiness
in this crowded mind of mine
where decentralized ideations
push and shove to be at the forefront
squashing any small hope for anything else
to move or scream its way in.

Annoying streetlights outside windows
penetrating the all-consuming darkness
that serves as my consciousness.
Illuminating the nightmares with vivid detail.

Nightmares reflecting horror
in gruesome images of conquest,
of demons breaking free.
There are no boundaries here,
in the place I call my mind.

******, suicide, ****, assault.
All of these take place with the
frequency of glass shattering from
a high pitched note,
held for the longest time,
falling toward a field of spears.

the power of music
collides with tragic symphony
into the depths of humanity
through the harp and electric guitar
the piano and the violin
harmonized by screams and cries
for help, for love, for laughter

Houses keep falling down
flatlands of dirt and crumbling dust
the ground stained red with avaricious blood
soaked up by tree roots
plaguing our minds
tendrils creeping like veins
out our fingers and toes
sinking into the earth
pricking like knives through our skin

Razorblades and escapades
bandages and runaways
suicides bled from slashes harmonized

Trains and airplanes
with razorblades are escapades
washing machines spinning like my mind
eyesight failing, only seeing red
itches and aches
the sun burns my skin
closet darkness, dampened coolness
fingers scraping against my shins
blood is drawing, artful painting
rivulets and small dots
between a hard place and a tall rock