Her lips tremble before she speaks
As if death, was imminent,
As soon as a word, exhaled
From beyond her gullet,
She’d be lost to the echoing darkness,
Her tongue eclipsed, by emotion
Caged, kept in the pulsating fist,
Gripping tighter, suffocating thought,
Until, that moment, blends
Into an endless cold, engulfing ocean,
But they’re just words,
Held high above the heart,
We create in our diluted mind
These patterned vibrations
That crush and obliterate us,
Because we allow it.
I perch here by the stone
Doing my best to pull the words out,
With all my strength, I cannot,
Tongue lost in the echo of still wings,
Not even the sharp mockery of the black bird
Can be heard tapering down my empty halls,
All that is seen, is the abundance
Of a voided pitch, feeling out for a touch,
Too cold to lay here on my own
As the raft sinks down further along
The engulfing river, spilling into dismay,
When can I awake to find her in my arms again?
Please wake me.
How many of us truly have our sanity in tact?
Just another hitch in the road as it all shatters,
And you become, interesting.
What’s the point of laying on the row boat
Searching down the waters,
Recollection of a life tarnished.
What’s the point of crawling in the ground
Carving on the white walls,
Breathing in the fumes of poison.
Approach these gates and knock,
The louder the better
So that the crazies know,
You’re one of us.