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Hannah Payne Jul 2016
Red flags are waving
Red eyes are staring
Behind sheer curtains
When I exit the door, dreaming.
Radiating,
All around me
Scorching my skin.
It's hard to think clearly
When the storm begins.
Scabbed wings and itchy spine
I was flying, but now my teeth are starting to grind.
A familiar sequence
Clings to the back of my head
It's hard to breathe clearly
When paranoia befriends,
A real visualization
With no dead end.
Hannah Payne Nov 2015
And I often fall,
To tour around into the realm of his vacant soul.
And we are, and we are all,
Occupationally numb,
Caressing the netting of the skin
As we crawl.
As we crawl.
Hannah Payne Nov 2015
Everybody's got a story to tell
Everybody's got something to hide
Everybody's got something to say
Everybody finds someone to divide.

And the beast is finally far away from me
But it's not so far if it's stuck in my mind.
He's got half his head underneath his baby's bed
Full of stuff,
He'll soon grow up to find.

And there's something hunting on the streets again
It's following the coloured prints on a dress.
Another flashback yet again begins
Swimming in my head and through the red
In my veins.

Everybody's got something to share
Everybody's got something to take
Everybody's got something to sell
Everybody's got their forms of prey.
Hannah Payne Nov 2015
Cloaked in my blankets,
I hear a fulmination of sounds.
The sounds of children weeping,
And of bombs capturing the ground.
I covered my ears and secured my eyes
Only to find that this time around,
These sounds were not inside my mind.

I released my uniformity of quilt,
And stared upon an empty shelf.
I imagined a place of prestige and luxury,
And the greedy percentage of interminable wealth.
I envisioned families with crystallized patios and polished rooftops
With clothing that glistens like gold and parquet floors that exert possessive pride.
Where a vast mass of appliances lie,
And sculptures of dinnerware are overflown.
But my eyes began to water when a flag was waved with an infinity sign,
And stacks of green paper were boastfully thrown.
And way far beneath their intangible table,
I began to feel a vibration of sounds.
The sounds of the powerless praying for just a couple of crumbs,
As the families fed their colossal crowns.
Luxury greed
Hannah Payne Nov 2015
Slugging outside of this imploding cube
Instantly, the air is contaminated,
And only momentarily, will I pollute the entire room,
My jangly displeasure consolidated.
I come in solely as an interior
Burying my face in my cuffs.
You look down at me as I am inferior,
Smiling, with your hands full of ashes and dust,
Of all that remains from our cremated hearts.

Your swift steps reverberates the dilapidated tiled floors
Like the hums of wishes through laboured breathing,
Like the creaking in my head from the pre-vocalizing doors.
Sinking into the essence of my sadness,
Journeying back and forth and back again.
Uncomfortably, through these conditioned doors I crawl,
To seek and assemble words,
To position them like Velcro on the polysyllabic cerebrum walls.
That will shape the size of my cuts and bruises
In undeniable places,
As a mouthful begins to cascade and fall.
Sinking in my invertebrate state,
My physical texture of life
Salutes me once again.
Of the stem of creation,
And unpleasant satisfaction,
Inside my gelatin head.

— The End —