Where is the sound of birds
Or the touch of wind up my back
Even this page is a silence that words crack

Come back, snap the stupid out from between my ears
Steady my hands and ******* my fears
I don't care that it makes me conscious of all I lack

Cheers softly sing around brick walls
Consternation bemoans itself in the space between
I relieve myself with writing until I start to hate it
Then I write something new to distract myself from that until I hate it
I hate it
-And I wear that straight jacket because there's less joy in reaching the
top of the same mountain every time you climb it, and I need the exercise-

God?
Is that you
Oh
Sorry
You look like someone I haven't talked to in awhile