Migraine pain oft’ strains my brain when I’m the eye of the needle in a language hurricane,

I can’t complain when it closes off out then in as it’s my only source of respite from the state within.

Snowed into a cabin that’s a wheely bin.

My musty minded confinement’s making poems from grime dust and old rust from mental spam cans.
No plots and plans just a headache that bangs, eyes that go blind, a numb dead feeling inside that hangs me out to dry like old parchment.

Sometimes when I start, much more is meant.

So when I dent the surface, in nervous apprehension I find tension.

A stripped down, bare walls dimension, an ascension through the way the pain wrenches and the room reels.
Temporary displacement as vertigo rocks me on my heels. And how this feels?

I am standing on a heat shimmer surrounded by a blinding white blurred version of the world, my eyes are blazing cold white fire wherever I look and I cannot feel the ground.

Everything that burns I feel as slowly my iron brain is blow-torched away, it sickens me but when I kneel and retch all I bring up is smoke and more fire. The world becomes a freezer door I am stuck to. Every time I try to get away I lose another piece of myself that stays there as a gory reminder.

Withered and blue in neat little strips.

Sitting regarding my situation and trying to be thankful for what i have,

Not what i have not.

Wrapped in a bubble, trying hard to not cause trouble, doubled up in a vacuum, just another room strewn with memories and advise.

From Adidas to Anne Rice I splice together weather as i sever strings tethers and release without cease.

To be found on weak knees in the tops of trees, shaking the sun and demanding release.

There’s a peace and quiet shortage but when it does arrive,

I crave it to be filled with company to bring me back to life.

Alive and still beating, repeating the same sad sonnet, I rattle like an aftershock and then make myself *****.

When it’s gone it leaves not a single trace, just words and sounds all giving chase to pace the penances purpose.

I’m typing and juddering, silence makes me feel nervous, it’s not even like i rehearse this or deserve rest,

I test the time uttering stuttering statements nervous and trying to digest.

The lines blur apart,
Like the beating of a heart,
Growing within us.
The rain grows darker,
Pulling patterns all apart,
Inked in subtle sin.
Bubbling, struggling, emerging from the mind like maggots.

The words squirm freely,
Crawling fresh across the heart,
All intentions clear,
Trailing silk neon.
Electrically charged peons,
Knowing never fear.
Pupating, growing, shifting and becoming more.

Wings twitching eyes black,
Blindly piloting the air,
Quick witted hearts crack,
Reflections bounced in,
Eyes closed to ego's judgements,
Doubts enhanced by noise,
Avoiding the truths I seek in anothers expression.