i always feel as if i'm locked outside of some magical paradise where everything is better. happier. easier. maybe the door open if
i'd eat less
exercise more
learn how to talk to people
(to let people in)
dress better
have more money
(more friends)
be less lazy, boring, useless, dumb
(*******)
i'd love to enter that paradise someday, and feel my problems fall away from me,
like taking
                         off
                                       a bra
                                                          after
                                                                               a long
                                                                                                  day.

Snowflakes landing on skin, melting.

Everything I touch disintegrates.

Overhead, overhead
To look up and muse at a thing with no way to reach it
Is this perfection finally perceived?
I wonder,
Is the natural state of the best things
far,
distant?
Perhaps to break something is to touch it

White bird held close
Among snarling alley cats
Dreams of freedom
Soaring high on fluttering wings

Into infinity swathed
In blue or black finery
Holes poked through to
Let the light in

You should have let it go
Unadulterated by hope
This thing without feathers
This thing without dreams

her heart thuds, beats against her chest like a caged bird. faintly, she hears some sound, far off, though from where or what she does not know.
a voice? laughter? no...it is something else.
it grows, as she struggles to make sense of it; her thoughts feel fragmented, muddled, too far away. her heart pounds harder.
rhythm...rhyme...repeating...
a song. yes, a song. but she does not know it. she shudders as the melody twirls and bounces off the walls of her mind.
“yes you do.”
who is that, talking to her?
echoes on and on and on…
melancholy chords… fading away...
it all swims in her head.
madness.