Hypochondriac
The streets are empty with fear
And breathe, it will be alright my dear
Put your hand in mine ‘cause I can
See they’re raw from bleach –
Stop scrubbing so hard;
That’s not what you need,
Stop picking away – you’re making yourself bleed -
Look into my eyes and trust me when I say
This won’t last forever,
We’ll take it day-by-day
When you get in your head
And all that dread comes out to play,
I can assure you the cracked-open
Window is far more safe
And when you want to be alone,
I’ll tell you I know that loneliness can kill
And I’ll sit by your side and take
Away the pills,
I’ll be by your side and we will climb each and every hill -
The streets are empty with fear
And you are full of it -
I assure you, my dear
Though we sit in darkness,
A candle can still be lit
The girl on the train
Blurry fields
And a dazed expression.
Her eyes began to focus on the reflection.
She stared blankly as if her thoughts had slipped away,
But frankly her mind was moving in every way,
Her face not able to keep up.
But nothing ever did.
The horn of the train blew,
People shuffled and moved,
But nothing but a meer blink did she give up –
She only feared the noise in her head.
Feared the noises, fear but not dread.
They simply swirled around until they
Were dead.
She sat cross legged. Her messy hair draped over
Her shoulders and flowed down her back.
The blue of her eyes deeper than
The blue sky she was looking at.
Her lips were chapped –
She bit them when she was thinking,
Fidgeting as she sat,
Watching life pass her by.
Sadness seemed to consume her, but you
Would never hear her sigh
Because to call her sad would be a lie.
Melancholy was her high.
Existentialism was why she was alive.
As the trees turned to streets
And stone turned to barred fences,
She slowly became less pensive,
The concrete solidifying her thoughts,
Rearranging the mess.
The train went over a bump.
She moved in her seat,
Her mind now only wracked in defeat.
1-2-3s
I hear the snap and the crack
Of my back as I stretch.
The click in my hips is next.
I feel the wobble in my knees
And the ache in my feet.
I feel the sting when I close my
Eyes to breathe.
When I collapse in my bed,
Every movement is bled
Into 1-2-3s,
Into “only if I really need.” I’m exhausted, I plead,
With no one to plead to but me.
Exhausted, not just physically.
I feel the exhaustion within me.
I feel the exhaustion starting to win.
I feel the exhaustion in my heart and soul
As I roll out of bed,
I feel the exhaustion consume my goals
“Quiet down I say”
As I’m holding my pounding head.
I’m talking to you behind
Closed doors
With my face pressed up against peeled wood.
~ Anything to be a little closer to you.