when my mother told me to get out of my own head
it was like the sound of a sudden beat in an alley way
that viscous, sinister bang of broken glass
collapsing in the forefront of my imagination
when she says to stop overthinking everything
I am suddenly reminded of the opalescent lights that corner my thoughts
the world spinning on its axis, turning my head and twisting so tight it pulls at the roots of my hair
when she tells me to get over it
I feel the weight of a textbook crushing my spine, speaking it's scripture to me like the demons that whisper through air vents
so over is not an option, mom
I've never been one to fly above the nest you'll learn that pretty quick
I am a cult of 9's, the tails whipping at the edges of my brain, it's one eye watches me stumble on division symbols, cackling at the ways I try to split my problems in two
when I tell her
I just want to sleep,
she tells me to crawl out of my bed and dance
but how come dance has turned my mind into a music box, a ballerina dances on point inside my head and I reach, and claw at the frayed corners of my skull, hoping to hold her grace
when I tell her my bed is the only thing that makes any sense,
that dreams don't come in clusters any more like the rapid cars on highways,
that they fold over into one,
that for once the calculator in my head isn't multiplying, or dividing,
that for once the number one just means one,
when I tell her that my dreams are filled with clouds of sanctuary,
or that my mind is only asleep when I'm spoken to,
that it climbs out of the covers at night to float high above the stars,
she says that laziness is a sin,
that feeding your exhaustion at 3 in the afternoon is ridiculous
but sleep is all that makes sense
when nothing adds up
so when I tell you I never roll out of bed with a refreshing, minty mind
that sleep doesn't feel like resting anymore
that it feels like sleep
that it feels like lying down after a long day and constantly crashing on to hard pavement
that falling from a 200 story building makes me feel alive
that's when you decide to tell me that I've exceeded all expectations
that I'm a shiny quarter in a sea of dimes
then I ask if you knew that all shiny things break the same
that I rust around the edges just like any other coin
could you understand my restless behavior isn't exotic but exhausted
then maybe you would too, hide behind bedroom eyes