i was lost
in the night.
distance waited for me.
panic didn't just go away.
panic could come
into my head.
i wanted to escape

Watercolor was
a panic attack
modern art was
coming out of my mouth
flowing
spreading through the air
in finger-like tendrils
reaching out
to those who have never lived

you are a prisoner
and everything beautiful
is missing.
everything is insanity

i used to have this skill
of writing beautiful words
it developed through my misery
it resounded in my nerves

i had rhymes in my head
and i put them together
i made people feel things
with an assortment of letters

but now my mind is too full,
too scattered, too broken
and all those words have slipped;
my thoughts have come unwoven

absolutely unraveled,
solidly unfrozen,
fantastically shattered,
an organized explosion.

those beautiful words
lost in the blast
i used to wish my mind would die
and it happened at last.