Loud head. Silent mouth.
Loud thoughts. Empty words.
Loud pain.
Screaming, deafening pain.
Numbness.

I don't know how to explain it,
But somehow, it seems like the world
Has gotten louder AND quieter
At the same time

I sit on the cold tile
outside my class
people walking by
cold digging into my ***

the squeak and buzz of basket ball boys
girls laughing around the corner.
I work on my project
my poems
my life

and somehow it doesn't get any warmer.

noise
the piercing screams of little children
"no no no!"
i dont want a shot
screaming crying help
but nothing shows
trying to stop the noise from
consuming you as it creeps in
with tendrils made of
every
          little
                  noise
that you have ever or will ever make
but now
you're silent
as you war in your head
clutching your knees wishing you
couldn't hear plugging your ears its too much
its too much its too much its too much
its so hard to breath or move or do anything at all
because everything makes a sound and theres already
                                             plenty
                                              much
       ­                                         of
                                               that

I blame the chemicals
Rome wents up in flames
Sometimes I wish I weren’t the one to say
That is just my mind
That’s not who I am
To quiet when it dies
To loud when people scream
I see them reach for me

I beg you on my knees to stay
That’s all I seem to do these days
As if your shadow would be mine
You say
“That’s the curse of a loud mind”

I wish it weren’t mortal truth
In my head I’d give it up for you
I’d loose the crown, the chaos and the pain
And I’d dance, I’d dance right in those flames

You’d blow them out
Just one by one
And in your hand a loaded gun
“Peace always needed people dead”
And you’d lift it to the emperors head

consumed

Let me make you whole again.
Let my blood quench your thirst and my flesh fulfill your hunger.
Let me be part of you.

Become something other than
Something greater than
Myself.

Peal my exterior and strip me of my identity,
For I am nothing if not helpful.
Willing.
Selfless.

I must be those things because if I am not,
Who will ******* soul?
Who will find me desirable?

What am I if not consumed?