I've been lost in my head, I might outlast forever
I know it's cliche and can play the part of a trigger
But I don't feel safe, can't recall if I have ever
Awake or asleep, it's the same nightmare
Collectively we already know nothing in there fights fare
And the fabric between the realities are threadbare and beginning to tare
I can physically feel the line blur between what's fake and what I'll be held accountable for later
Poetry, to me, is just me attempting to map out every square inch under my thing hair
Behind eyes that can barely show they care
In my fake grin, and between my left and right ear
Taking caution not to ruffle a feather on the ****** of devil's on each shoulder
I'm sure to discover rooms I haven't been in since I don't know when, oh dear,
What's the year?
Whatever
Hey, what's in here?
To dark to tell but oh do I know this smell all too well
Unfairly familiar
That putrid air
Nothing can compare
I'd recognize it anywhere
What we have here is fear
Maybe it'd be irresponsible of me to share
Probably not a good idea to push much further
Clear and present danger
Nothing's properly put together
Can't make sense of the clutter
Extra pieces from every fixture
Litter the ground next to the broken glass from every family picture
Shattered dreams scattered everywhere
I know what it looks like but there's not an interesting story here
I can assure it was no thrilling adventure
But I can not ensure a safe future
No one should witness the part of me, the litny of every nasty memory, everything I was forced to locked away in there
It's my headspace and I'm even too afraid to enter
I thought the scar meant it healed but then how's this door ajar?
What's going on here?

©2024

while soaring the heavenly heights
     many hours ago
every major metropolis appeared
     about a million miles below

the rarefied atmosphere
     ideal composition beckoned angels,
     who bustled, hustled, and jostled elbow
     (which bedlam, flimflam, and mayhem

     intimated Hells Bells)
wing trying (heavens to Betsy) to flag attention,
     and snag coveted soundcloud Netherland Award
     cap ping bulging port folio,

which hubbub charged crackled, popped,
     snapped amidst light emitting diodes
     with a snazzy aura, charisma
     harp pulling, piping, and chiefly

     paying praise (CI years post haste)
     to William Henry Perkin
     whose credit able karma
     (and unwitting) claim to fame didst glow
     purple, which jumpstarted incandescent halo

couture culture club, via constant comet inflow
of Plasmodia vaguely resembling microscopic red Jello
illuminating swath of dusky
     shutter flying sky sustaining

     self contained feedback instagram loop know
wing lee broadcasting mauveine staccato low
to the groundswell of chemists dyeing, Googling,
     and gratefully huzzahing insinuating

     killing, kindling kissing
     malaria goodbye, an outlook
     (nee a once in a lifetime moe
mint - je nais sais quoi) win out loud

     respectably sedulous honoree, a no
bill sine qua non bit player aniline
     (to conclude this short poem) about his oh
penning accidental discovery kickstarting pro
noun est contribution to the fashion industry.