Pick out a score of opinions for me. I
am open to any metaphor you want to make me. All I need is something to listen to,
to keep this messy head in some sort of order.
Order like I order and reorder this room
of daydreams. I can’t lose myself in them until I lose myself. I spend
beginnings like I will never run out of them but every time I start I can’t
continue down this road.
Roads I will never walk down again, never
sprint from barefoot, never stand on while I lose and win so much, never leave
knowing I can return to all of you, never stir half-awake right as we get home,
fill me up- I don’t think I can fit any more into my skin.
Skin that freezes me from the inside out
even as it is my lifeblood. I feel it covering my heart and collapsing my lungs
every second of every day as I am still numb. I keep chasing the rain even as I
move further and further into places coated in ice.
Ice is too close to my heart. I keep looking at the
icicles that fall off things around me and make them ordinary again. I have
thought too many times about picking them up and putting them in my pocket, saving
them for when I need to make things beautiful. When every piece of me is paved
with questions and can snap at the sound of nostalgia it shouldn’t be a
surprise I am made of bones.