Clattering clashes of confused cacophony
Secretly sweep myself from sanity  
No one knows of this nonsense
That's viciously veering away my vanity.
But bursting bottles bubble over
Then transform from thick to translucent
Succumb to swallowing my insecurities
Like little lies luring your loneliness
Making moments your own meaningless movie
These hallucinations hear hoarse laughter
That tricks time into ticking towards timebombs.

These thoughts twisting inside of me
Curling up just below the surface
Taking my head and clutching it close to my heart
Trying to listen to the hum of feelings
I can't stand up anymore

Wind drinking my skin
It's so cold
Nothing like it used to be
Is this the world you wanted me to see
Your kind moving quietly around me
Looking back at me

I remember whispering in your ear
Telling secrets you'd never know
Your fingers were afflicted with a nervous itch
Pointing like nails to pin my insides to the ground
All these people like golden souls crawling this way and that
Spotting every dark corner below the surface

There you are, flying over me
Playing with things unseen
I'm lingering in the dark
Pulling clouds low to forget this ground
Darling, lay your head down for me

All around me, jackhammers and timebombs
I feel insane, dropping below the still waters
Phosphorescent white blotting this soul out into the open
Twisting thoughts inside of me
Beneath the skin I'll run away
Under the waves I'll crawl to some distant shore
I'll try to hold on, I'm losing the fight
I'll try to hold on, I'm slipping away
I'll come back again
If I can.

I sat with my hands
On this awkward holly leaf
Forcing its yellow-green spikes to pierce flesh

Passing my fingers
Over the points so pretend real
Peeling off each limb one by one to make it ordinary

Reading the tombstones
All lined up in morgue fashion
Imagining those souls who were one day transformed

Into stone-carved letters
Names and dates and flowers
Slowly lessening visits from moved-on people

Who try not to think
Of their own temporary selves
As ticking timebombs testing every limit until one day

I walk diagonal
Accross the road to the redness
That catches my eye filling my head with metaphors

Those church wine petals
Scent as sweet as the Eucharist
Having been inside for so long I am drunk on the sight

I am born again
Brushing against plants for contact
Suddenly noticing the life energy contained within them

there's no hurry
time will hold your hand, anxious child
there's nowhere to run
so why feel like running
your corpse will take over you soon enough don't let that be now
the more life you exhale the closer you are to losing your inhale but i promise you you're the basic windmill
You’re literally a caterpillar you’re every table in the world you’re me if i was a girl you’re a piano buried beneath the lighthouse
Calm the **** down
We're all timebombs; we're all ticking
we're all counting moments down and thinking
imagining when we could be speaking

Stunted, the same, by
          highs
            and
           lows
           alike.
A jubilant parade inside
           some nights.
Silver linings? Ticking timebombs! Infinite splinters!
No good time left unexploded.
Rusted blood iron and red wine
filling my eyes.
          Tired of feeling "weird."
          Tired of knowing I'm being.

I wish I wanted anything in a way that didn't
                              scare me.
I wish I could love anything in ways that
                            couldn't hurt--
                           --inward or out--

                    I wish...
                    I think...
If I sit on this bench...for a long time,
and keep perfectly still...but make subtle
                    eye contact
          with some of the crows...
they'll accept me as one of them?

                    Teach me to fly
                    Or, at least, hide
                       in plain sight.
        A new vocabulary for my quiet
              when it starts to get mean.

Entangled, alike, by
          lows
          and
          highs,
         the same.
Convenient jailbreak for a Name--
               --Say it.
Chewing paper? Eat the playbook. Shred this formula.
No good night goes unpunished.
Rusted blood in my mouth, and red wine--
crying outside
                    Tired of being fragile
                    Tired of knowing I know.

                   And how 'bout the crows?

                   I'm good for a laugh, they suppose.