“If you need water
Just ask”
But what I really
Need
Is pen and
Paper because
I’m bleeding
Words
Run faster
Than my mind
Can think
And your
Stone cold needle
****** find
No blood left
Inside my
Fingers
Clenched up
Holding on to
All that’s left of
Sanity
I never had
Tonight
Still you want
Blood?
Open up my mouth
And draw it
From my bitten
Tongue
Look inside my
Head and
Shout for the doctor
To come stitch my
Thoughts
Back together into
Someone who makes
Sense and
Sees light
At the end of
This tunnel
You offer Band-Aids
Trying to
Patch together these
Holes in my hands
And ask how
And who and when
“I guess you won’t
Do that again?”
Chuckling softer than
The ticks of the
Clock I’ve been
Watching
Counting down
All my words
Are slipping out
Of consciousness
I’m holding on
To grains of sand
Blowing away in
Winter wind
And
The mattress is
Soaked in the
Sweaty truth of
Words
You
Were too busy
To hear
To see
To ask
“Why?”
So bandage me
Up with your
Perfect prescribed smiles
Tsks and tuts and
“What would your
Mother think”s
And I’ll try to
Fit the pieces
Back together
By myself
With pencils
And napkins in
Your waiting room
While a cab comes
To carry me
Away
"Home"
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
“If you need water
Just ask”
But what I really
Need
Is pen and
Paper because
I’m bleeding
Words
Run faster
Than my mind
Can think
And your
Stone cold needle
****** find
No blood left
Inside my
Fingers
Clenched up
Holding on to
All that’s left of
Sanity
I never had
Tonight
Still you want
Blood?
Open up my mouth
And draw it
From my bitten
Tongue
Look inside my
Head and
Shout for the doctor
To come stitch my
Thoughts
Back together into
Someone who makes
Sense and
Sees light
At the end of
This tunnel
You offer Band-Aids
Trying to
Patch together these
Holes in my hands
And ask how
And who and when
“I guess you won’t
Do that again?”
Chuckling softer than
The ticks of the
Clock I’ve been
Watching
Counting down
All my words
Are slipping out
Of consciousness
I’m holding on
To grains of sand
Blowing away in
Winter wind
And
The mattress is
Soaked in the
Sweaty truth of
Words
You
Were too busy
To hear
To see
To ask
“Why?”
So bandage me
Up with your
Perfect prescribed smiles
Tsks and tuts and
“What would your
Mother think”s
And I’ll try to
Fit the pieces
Back together
By myself
With pencils
And napkins in
Your waiting room
While a cab comes
To carry me
Away
"Home"
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