It's liquid midnight bottled in blue,
iridescent sparkles shining through.
It's thick twisting syrup in the sky
layers of secrets underneath lie.

It's hopes and fears battered and bruised,
mystery and madness interfused.
It's between planes-- beautiful and ethereal,
scars of kings taste as imperial.

It's honey dripping from an imaginary comb,
sweet sadness echoing through a suspicious tome.
It's a hot mess of sprinting thoughts,
pain and excitement in empty blots.

It's both extremities in duality,
a crippled fantasy bathed in reality.

Four white walls,
an endless stream of beeps.
I am alive yet not alive,
here but not here.

Crash.
My mind spins in spirals
as I tumble through a cyclone.
A mix of emotions cross the blasting air, blurs of various colours whip all around, a force begins itching at my skull, scratching my nerves and veins, pulling and ripping my limbs until blackness consumes me, Crash.

The memories kick through my broken brain
like torn puzzle pieces that will never fit.
I am a jagged scar that will never heal--
marred by one accident.
Crash.

Four white walls,
an endless stream of beeps.
I am alive, yet not alive,
here, but not here.

Clever sticky earworm
Tricky mess stuck in my head
Like crazy glue and torn fragments
Never complete but always repeating

Clever sticky earworm
Tricky mess stuck in my head
Get out get out get out
Always repeating

Clever sticky earworm

Shed your outer layer
Unravel your guise
Take off your mask
Let me see inside

You are a question mark
Your body a false pretense
You answer with questions
You attack with defence

Eyes are windows of the soul
But yours mirror mystery
Just give me something
I'm not asking for your history

Please let me in
I will be there for you
Let me show you warmth
I will always come through

Keep your mask
And keep your guise
But turn those mirrors to windows
And let me inside

An earthquake trembles through me,
my hands shake as I imagine breaking down.
Sun is burning down on me,
my face breaking out in sweat.

The quake tumbles through my stomach,
until I feel sick and queasy.
An itch ventures across my body,
my shaky hands scratching everywhere.

A vicious wind knocks away my breath,
I try to gulp down the thick air.
My heart throbs in my chest,
like sore stubbed toe.

He says my name and extends his large hand,
I peer up under the shade of my bangs
like a scared child hiding from a giant.
It is time and I am still frightened.

We make our way into the back and he slams the door.
The room is filled with ****** spikes and skulls,
His skin turns red and black horns raise from his forehead.
He questions me then maniacally laughs at my answer.

That's the worst that could happen right?
"Are you ready for your interview?" the man asks patiently.
I smile big and fake some confidence,
"Of course!"