You picnic alone just to feel the warmth
Of the sun, then hide in the shadows
To watch the robin-red roses sway and
Try to dance in the breeze. You smile lifelessly
At those others consider close to you-

You are like a hollow shell, but they see far
From that. You know they are right because you feel
The nights of endless, restless sleeplessness; the apathy
You hold for yourself. It is a worthless weight
Wrapped across your body, and you put it there. They value

You, they care about you, so they scrub free that filth
They see you put there. They try to feed you, include you,
Make you see, so one day when you wake
From this you can live, but right now you crave sleep.

Senseless bubble erase the fears
Mundane life pulls at heartstrings taut
Carving ridges and trenches of pain
Back beaten concerns and worries
Never fully flush from my flesh
Excitement bursting and dissolving
Like acid into everyone's apathetic ears
Long limbs elaborating tales that could
Otherwise simply suspend with sentences
Splashes of distaste scald at my face
Burrowing deeply into my deep diseases
I'm thousands of degrees to cold eyes
Yet I burn within their icy glares of uncare
Every nerve twitches while others' tingle
Soft happiness blooms into blissful days
Torn by how I feel all too much yet am not enough

Chasing rainbows in my head
The world outside is cold and dead
As I'm chasing butterflies
The world outside has passed me by

And here I lie in the sands of time
Skeletal and bare
Minnows swimming through my skull
A grinning sightless stare

Diving deep to find the source
Of the pretty mermaid song
The siren voice turns me off course
Now I drift in the duldrums

As I drown in shallow waters
I could breathe if I would stand
But here I lie lulled to sleep by sirens
Comatose in the sand

Too tired now to stay awake
I think I'd rather fade away
Leave all my dreams castaway
On the ebbing tide
Wake me up or let me die
Let me drown or save my life

Let the sea take these bones
And turn them into driftwood.

a decimal of time
wedged between a tile
of a room - unknown
it could have been a kitchen or the delirious floor of a bustling shop
down to the tedium of banter and the slow trickle of something like
a cultural shift
inside a downtrodden window she stared too long until she was
unrecognizable by her and those around her
disappearing from picture frames and unable to remember
what it was like to say something of importance
her tongue now a foreign agent unsure if it still served a purpose
other than being in someone else's mouth
her shirt pocket always containing something of a thrill
like pearls or cigarettes
but now there was nothing in those pockets
tea bags were now placed in jars and her nails never veneer various colors but the same **** that had enthralled her years earlier
now blending in with the canvas outfits she wore to be reminded of a hobby that could have meant something
if only she believed in anything