I awoke with a need,
with presentiments from bad dreams;
detached from feeling, I hear it sing:
a grandfather’s clock, untimely,
boxes and a piano with no tuning.

a walk through high hills and chalk walls,
towards a fervid green memory -
no ash to see and no burnt bodies.

now, with this perturbed heartbeat,

the     ghosts and    
goners      will  
meet

My mind is an unquiet graveyard;
uninterred mistakes stare up from their open barrows
Milk eyes clearing to glass
As the anxious banshee crosses over them
keening notes drifting
linen strands of her raiment twining around their wrists
Dragging sloughed skin into the murky light
Of repeated examination.

I could be a queen of solitude
if not for this.
If Pandora's voice box were broken
hinges rent, screws loosed from their cavities, wood split
the demons might still, displaced.
Hope is not the last thing in my throat
she was the first to go
with a song unsung
an alto never strong enough to last
beyond the first few flakes of oxygen
I inhale in the morning.

I'm six feet underground, disoriented.
did I dig the grave, or was I meant for it?
the soil clumps together, stronger than ever
as it presses my chest, never to sever.
as I claw my way up, branches stab like pins.
before long, the deep cuts sear my exposed skin.

my eyes tire, and I rest.
but my rest fails the test.

the soil weighs me down further,
bringing me where demons murmur.
and that is where I now stand,
trapped in a layer of land.
and since making a move burns,
staying gives me what I deserve.

A rusty cage conceals me
Deep beneath the waves, of another passing day
The blood inside my veins
Is laced with warmth, that erodes away the pain
The needle scratches vinyl
As the pills provide the music, singing sorrow in my brain

Lost on the lamb
Searching for the touch, from my own callused hands
A wind-up ballerina in her box
Doesn’t spin and twirl like she wants
Damaged dancer
Standing still, inside my antique heart

Summer is soft and sticky.
An ode to the ocean,
Where you drowned at 13
And now I skim the surface
Pretending I'm not treading
Your grave.
Girls & boys play.
I can hear boat engines
Under the water and they're
Humming your name.
I'm glad the salt stings,
I wish the tide could grab,
But the sun,
Oh the villain if there was one,
Warms me too much
To stay long

War zone in my brain,
Nothins really the same,
Exepct my heart that’s same,
But my brains not the same,
Sufferin depresseion that I cannot tame,
Losing my mind it feels like everyday,
Drowing in thoughts and my hate,
Gonna have to break the gate ,
The gate of gratification and grace ,

Leave my devil to the grave,
But my devils immortal hes lurkin,
Every corner every crack ready to break out,
Sick of bein called a disappointment and a clown,
Bout to rain havic on this little ******  town,
But calmdown and open ur 3rd eye and face the light,
But the lights is mine,
But im not mine,
Im my devils,
Forced to do his transactions and his deals,

But its hard to open grace when ur a disgrace,
A outcast from myself and life,
Used to be a angel but now im fallin from  grace,
Fallin from grace from this race of pain and change,
Hasn’t been the same since 6th grade,
Alawys bullied pushed and pulled,
But there so much u can pull a anchor by a rope,
Before the rope breaks and the anchor stops,
Like that anchor and my gratification stopped,
And lost my grace,

Open ur 3rd eye and face the light,
But the lights is mine,
But im not mine,
I will never escape this race of anxiety and change…