Dry tears accumulate On the corners of my sleepless eyes As my thoughts circulate In my brains Like old sweaters in washing machines. My spirit is knocking on the doors of my mind, Peeking through windows Trying to get a signal, Trying to do something Screaming “What the hell are you doing!?You’re going to **** us!”
It’s raining, Inside me it’s raining; Droplets of infuriated thoughts And angry manifestos Declaring that I’m unpleased with this world, Unpleased of how it’s too small for my dreams, Too tight for my overflowing self And too narrow for my vision.
I’m a social claustrophobic, Desperately attempting to get out of my social class That is made out of four walls Hate, prejudice, fear, and socio-economic dictionaries That are set to define human beings. I’m a lost pilgrim; My compass is lying somewhere In between the sand castles Our father’s built for us In this country on the shore; In this country that drowns Every time the moon decides to push away the water to its surface, That clenches, To the air that’s given to it Split seconds after the moon changes its mind.
I can see the sunset; But when the mind is not clear One can never find clarity in a cloudless sky, I can smell all kinds of spring, But the scent reminds me of what I’m missing Rather than what I am to find; I’m busking in a starless sky, I’m rotating around my words Trying to avoid the meanings Jumping over my reflections Only thinking of one thing “How the hell do we get out of this labyrinth?”