I bathe in endless sips of your love
'till the watery depths of my stomach
gurgle their dissapproval,
leaving me sick.

‘A festive song for thy ears’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Brimming with gratitude,
With pennies of silver
Or the coppers from well-worked hands,
The heavy gold of the rich;
Once weighed down pockets
Generously giving.
‘A festive song for thy hearts’,
Sang the jovial busker;
Playing with precision,
With clarity and care
Or the subtlety of pristine art,
The blending sound of the voice
Soothingly warming.

I look for beauty
even when it's dripping
in the corner of an alley
filled with all the monsters
underneath my bed
and inside my head.

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And beg-BEG- for them to hurt me,
Pretend to love but actually hate me,
Romance me, only to ignore me-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And ask for their prayers,
Spill out my darkest confessions,
Grieve my past self to them-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And preach the importance of freedom,
Inform them of the world’s woes,
Bore them with politics-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And demand they save me,
Pause my loneliness before it turns foul,
Accompany me during my days-

Sometimes the need to grab strangers by the shoulders,
And scream help, so the birds flee,
Becomes ever too powerful.

So powerful I recoil from human interactions,
Until I can perform the average conversation again.