Let there be enough stillness around me for me to recognize just how I exactly I am supposed to move because right now it feels like I am
skateboarding in an earthquake
Upside-down and with my hands tied behind my back like harry Houdini in that big glass fish tank with thousands of people just waiting
To watch him die
Let me grasp at the straws of juice boxes
To drink from
Not to breathe from.
If you’ve ever set foot inside this room, then you've seen the things that no longer speak to me or about me but just sit there
like the walls
watching me bleed to the beat of my own drum
and I almost think each downward stroke will shoot this pain from my system shoot this life from system shuddering
i used to hear the voices of my past just like when she'd sit by my side on the couch
all curled up
in my world
and whisper in my ear that she'd never leave that this time it would be different that she would be different and that we would be the same
now the voices are corpses piling up inside.
and i'm watching them rot.
but somehow i'd sooner throw away
this computer these jeans this phone these games that letter on the wall that green box under the bed with everything in it and that book and this crown and i'd stand naked in a crowd
if it would all mean that i could hold on
to that voice
and not have to throw it away with every other lifeless piece of shit
with which i am surrounded.
i'm going into that place now where i see every letter on every label like a disco ball reflecting the sun,
where keystrokes shoot like lightning i can trace
across the vascular highway that leads to the place
that makes this all possible.
the good and the bad.
the place that makes me a better friend to words than people and the place
that knows that normal people don't feel the different personalities of the words
"pleasant" and "peppy"
and that maybe they don't see pleasant as green and peppy as red and that maybe the reason i see pleasant as green has to do with how it reminds me of forests or maybe because i've been staring way too long at this stupid green jug on my desk that's supposed to hold money or pens or something but is completely useless because i already have a container for money and two for pens and three times as much shit as is comfortable in this place because well
you never know.
but this place.
this crazy place.
inside my head
where the earthquake never stops
is where i still have you
through the years.
this crazy place inside my head where the earthquake never stops
is where it all starts
when i have those days
where i just feel
that there is something inside
that is made