Neurotic Tendencies

I wanna go some place
where I can see the Milky Way shimmer

I wanna find that space
where nothing but now exists

Let’s make magic!
Come,
come and add a sprinkle of your stardust to this bare palette

I cram flowers and weeds and trees and birds and worms
inside my chest

I stowed them in the far recesses of my mind,
and now I’m finding it hard to let go,

my head’s heavy
and tonight I cant hold it up,
I’ve got at least five different poems burning inside me
but tonight I can’t tame the fire,

I’m falling asleep
as the hidden words singe my skin
and scold my finger tips,

I went to bed with regret last night,
forgot to wipe
the makeup off my face,
my contacts concealed to
my dilated pupils,

the morning
lifts its shade,
the birds draw pink and blue across the sky,
orange leaves fall upon thirsty grass,

I rise with the taste of salt upon my lips
the crunch of sand between clenched teeth,
the sun drowning my eyes

I’m scraping off the crust
that formed
overnight,

scatter your flowers and strange inner creatures before me,
’cause these flames are trapped inside,
diminishing and
curling into ash with each breath in,

got to
got to rescue the remnants
of songs that
fingers never played,
lips never tasted and
the winds never lifted,

I woke up with emptiness today,
lost the only bandages
that could soothe my wounds,

somewhere there’s a solvent that’ll disolve it all
that doesn’t contain drugs or alcohol,
maybe it’s buried inside you and I,

oh to spill it all out and flower
a living breathing jungle around us

sometimes you’ve got to write when you’re too tired to,
sing when your heart aches,
ink the blank paper,
before it evaporates
before the circus of free thoughts dissipates,
Sometimes you’ve got to paint your own Milky Way
with the darkness and the stardust

see I let the truths fester beneath
clenched teeth and unopened notebooks,
and I’m spinning out
from telling my heart it doesn’t feel what it feels
but it still aches in my chest
when I’m out of breath from
holding every gasp in,

I’m trying to sweep up the ashes of words unspoken,
trying to stir this pot that’s
boiling and bubbling over with
caged thought-eggs that
weren’t bred to hatch and thrive but
to be poached, cut open and eaten.

I carry a heavy heart through the afternoon,
swallowed too many thoughts
before they could surface
all day long,
again.

I went to bed with regret just a moment ago,
but I’m still awake and I’m writing this poem
(is this a poem)
with well-cooked, free-range thoughts
and I’m extinguishing the flames
that burn me
so that I can light up the page before me,

there’s a typewriter concealed to the back of my mind,
the letters are leaking out,
there are ink blots stained into my fingers and palms

I can see the Milky Way
and I like it.

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