All these things an accumulation of things consumed like fat in the arteries or the cultural zeitgeist in the head blended and pulverised manufacturing pulp fiction til the gun is loaded against our own skull an audible gulp before the flash and bang empties our full
I tried to be a wallflower but I couldn’t take the responsibility an ecological niche I couldn’t bloom to fit it instead, I clung to the nail creeping ever downward a weed straggling lifeward hoping no one will notice
A dying field mouse was the catalyst For the tears turning to diamonds Under the pressure of unrelease An apologetic surrendering To my failure to be a hero My humanity drifting me apart A wedge between me and my kind A bridge I can’t cross To look you in the eyes And become a part of the rat race I despise That mouses black beady eyes The abyss I looked into Forever looking back
Is there anywhere I can be someone else I’m tired of being wrapped up in myself but I’ve seen out there and seen the earth laid bare it’s too much for me all I see is death looking back at me mirroring my decisions and indecisions falling into the abyss of those eye sockets
Survival instinct is my enemy he’s always there when I try to be free there was a moment when I thought the end would come but he kicked out and I survived another fight My survival instinct is my enemy why won’t he listen to these thoughts in my head I want to be returned to the earth again
I am too small and the world much too big put me in a house made from books instead of bricks leaving everything to the imagination with broken spines as a sign of worlds well lived don’t leave me here constrained in this broken body in bits and the mind inside that is folded a million times to fit I can’t hold myself together alone untethered in this storm like a flag surrendering in the wind comfort me with silk weaved wit and imagery feed this insatiable hunger for something to lift me from this black, black hole don’t let me fall back to dust all alone.
I cannot reach you the shimmering mirage of my dreams undone there was no triumph in the sigh that escaped my lungs but all these moments that reveal we had made death in our image and I would be damned if I did not quiver at what we’ve become