I would do anything, say anything,
To burn to all hell
The fields we conquered
To utterly drown
The ever-growing flames
But do I use fire
Or do I use water?
I need to finish this forever
Burn the frayed ends of this rope
Because God only knows
The poetry I will let loose
If my tongue is not burnt at the stake.
But will I even burn?
Are my eyes truly love-laced?
Are my arteries just frail veins,
My blood merely candy cane—
Did I even make a mistake
Or is everything I do an escapade?

My heart may be mad
But my mind is an asylum
In it is the woman
The ideal of my self schema
Next door is a child
Both terrified and terrifying
Innocence stolen
Capable of everything
Small enough to slip through the bars
She has taken my gun from me
The world is her target
But none with breath shall approach—
The other rooms are filled with scarecrows
And the rest is empty space
Quiet as a field on a windless night
Disorganized,
And still
Eerily still

But even in stillness
What is this hidden door?
Why does this asylum have a theatre
And why are we in it?
Getting cupcakes on an overcast day
Running hand in hand down a sidewalk in the suburbs
But then, it’s gone
The curtains close
And I’m in your old apartment
None the wiser to my being there
A dark room
A cold bed
Anxiety
My skin is warm
You touch it and it crawls
But I want more and I don’t and I do

It’s a lot,
Not knowing how to feel
Not knowing which color to be
Am I red?
Am I blue? Is he green?
Are you gray?
Is everything gray?
Or is it just me?
Did I paint this?
Did you?
Why are we here in this room
You aren’t supposed to be here
It’s not in the blueprints
But if the same room lives in the dungeons of your mind
Will I see you there
Before it burns down?