It needs to just leave me alone.
Let me sleep.
Leave me with thoughts of love.
Not thoughts of panic.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where instead of sleep,
Thoughts of terror come into play.
And I can feel the swelling of my throat;
As if I were allergic to the tragedy.
My heart beats as if it were a horse race.

Welcome to my Panic Room.
Where a bed lay in the center.
One I wish to sleep upon and dream of fearing nothing.
Yet I sit in the corner;
All curled up to protect myself from the monster that's coming.
Only to realize, every time,
The monster is inside me.

hot coffee and stale cigarettes
while i reflect upon circumstances
and i suspect that the regret
will dissipate, while hope appirates
and my self confidence condensates

so i compensate for a lack of self meaning
by pushing the boundaries of what you seem
to see in them; dreaming of my next moves
like a display at the art gallery
you need to stand behind the line
while i sing "come on over Valerie"

so it's self lobotomy
as i open my mind up to the aether
and either i push forward to let go of her
or i stab the inner me that says i need her

so i make friends with the ladybirds
wasps and the ant hills and burn my lip on my cup as
i make a move to get my fills
and make peace with the fact that everything must one day

go up in smoke.

nick

the lonely hearts club is advertising again
" lets be close friends and share our bacteria"
on the billboard across the road