They were opened,
Revealing a world in constant motion,
Colored and coated with this commotion,
Gripped and grabbed by the chosen,
Opened, but blinded,
Taken and tried, ignited,
A time before, I didn't mind it,
But now I mind it

I was better together and intact,
But now I wonder if I have even my own back,
Always feeling so stuck in this reality,
Confined, is this how it's supposed to be?

Feels like a day that lasts forever,
Losing time, guess erase the never,
Where did my mind go, lost my sanity,
Could I do anything to finally be free?

Could it be any better, I always ponder,
Maybe this is a test disguised as a taunter,
I feel it's getting harder to clearly even see,
Feelings confined in things that used to be normal to me...

Clipped by the cage you're confined in,
Dark and compliant, a conflicted life of air,
All faces remembered, those who are in debt to the raven's snare,
Inspired by shadows that lurk in the sun, the ones with many sins,
You have a story to tell, but one mustn't dwell,
You will sing your family's name, let it echo like a bell,

Caged raven...what is it you think?

I've been thinking about you
Casually conversating about to-dos
Flashing images serenading me
You're a friend I wish I could see
But you only sing in my head
Out in the world, I'm never said
So I ponder alone, in a drugged-out dread
Laughing in a corner with my only friend
As the world falls over, and so does my bed
I'm in my head with my only begotten friend.

Being young but unable to go out
Being able to go out but not feel young
The sky is nothing but a wide stare
into dry nothingness.
The drinks are a distant memory.
The moon smiles on the empty cities.
There's nobody to smile back.
The Monday mornings are not hated.
The Friday nights aren't to be thanked
in as much as opening
a canned sardine
with the edge of a dull knife.

Going to bed is not a rare occasion.
Staying in it is ubiquitous.
There's no race against a clock.
We're waiting to be freed
from our own homes.
As if the constant crowds
gave us joy in the first place.
Waiting...
to soar like a bird
and have the bliss
of a stained liver once again.

March was the swelling, the cracking, grey clouds on the horizon ready to swallow
April was the storm that washed us under, held our heads down and told us to count to ten
May is the aftermath, the leftovers, the flood and rain have passed, but what now
What do we do with all the scraps and broken bits
Do we just make fires and wait
Like Noah in his boat
Watching the looming clouds
And counting to ten