A stampede of elephants
Running through the rooms of my mind
As their legless bodies ask
"How?"

A toucan flies to rest on a thought
With two million and two branches reaching towards my heart.
"How many cans can a toucan can if a toucan could can cans?"

Now this monkey must be joking
Those are my feelings he's holding.
And he continues to toss them about.
He peels off the skin and throws it over his shoulder
And takes one big bite out of the happiest one.

And this little duck waddles,
Left foot, right foot.
The left side is fine, but his right
Sends a nerve that clenches a fist to a glass window.

"Quack, quack."

Snip snap,

And there goes the vertebrae in my spine.

In us we lust
The stars they ******
Into my eyes
With parted thighs
And warm hands that strangle
Like twitching fingers that tangle
Among sweet lips of death
Each holding their breath
Unaware of the danger
That kissed your neck
But now your body's inept

And your thoughts they collect
Pebbles
And aims them at varying
Levels
The sweat on your frown
Trembles
the castle of hearts
It does fade
The next card on deck
Is a *****

But the laughing man's mouth is a cage
His sentences like homes that fall
Each word is a crumbling wall
Fists clenched in a ball
That roll off the bridge of my face
And send blood through my breathing space

My temper, it burns like fire
My body once filled with desire
Now craves to see your life expire

A day, a day, past.

How strongly one’s emotions can affect mentality.
The constant reassurance of stability is about as crippling as the entity of emotion itself.
How long can one suffer in the ocean of sentiment before they eventually drown?
The aspect of progression through the soul is subtle, faint and bleak.
Nostalgia disturbs through inducing wistful affection;
Upon recalling a warm memory and feeling utterly cold.

Resurrected from the salty chuck.
I awoke with the absence of instinctive regret;
To think a shadow burdened my day,
Until I no longer wished for another.

Your eyes resembled the troubled waters at sea,
always shimmering, churning, crashing, always making me wonder if you had sky blue galaxies trapped inside of you.

And your smile always looked as if it had been carved into your face with the same instrument used to make those marks on your arms.

I found comfort in your sadness, because that was the only time you were true to yourself.

I found comfort in your freedom. I always loved seeing you live carelessly, daringly. Insubordinate to anyone who tried to stop you.

Sometimes it worried me to see you scratch your skin after you cursed about destroying everything you touched.

Sometimes it worried me to see you lose yourself among the empty bottles of alcohol.

You were burdened with a heavy heart, and like the pupils in your eyes and the emotion in your smile and the sound of your laugh, it was vacant.

And all I could say was, maybe, just maybe, if you unclenched your fists you would've found that you were holding onto nothing.