It is revealing,
Like a ribbon pulling for too long,
Tissue unrolling,
What dismay this brings,
The ache and confusion amalgamated
and toasted in butter,
This cream of life, soft on the tongue,
Yet like glass being swallowed,
Scars seared across my throat,
Choking.
Alienated,
The walls around me speak different tongues,
They cry and support me in their cracks,
I have only paper to leak on,
Purge, figure out what the cursives mean,
These typos I keep discovering ,
The people,
They hold such different values,
Sometimes,
I want to empty my vase,
Plant myself elsewhere,
A wild bloomer,
In between concrete,
We hold conversations ,
Because we all can,
There is no difficulty in this,
I don’t live in glass jars,
I don’t belong here,
Those who were similar to me,
Are now foreign,
I wonder if they can smell it off me?
How many of my nerves have formed new maps?
New roads to glide on,
Less poison, more living,
Isn’t that beautiful though?
Is this not yet a masterpiece ?
Is this not a celebration,
But they have no time.
Nobody has time anymore,
Shifts in the ribcage,
I thought becoming Golden was glorious
To spread light onto lovers,
Yet I returned with a tumor in hand,
I wonder was this change not Yellow? burning mustard, Cumin seeds and Suns?
Did I not dare to shake the dead?
Was it not obvious?
Are we all mad?
Is there no growth here ?
Is this death in them?
Have I bled into the wrong hole?
Should I bury myself in a grave again?
Did I take the wrong path of tumor ?
Did I not listen enough ?
Did I not give enough time?
Must I end it all now?
I have never felt more alive in my life.
Isn’t this a waste.