Sad Labels:
hyperbole
,
introspect
,
philosophy
Come the saints in manic pause. Laden with paradise obese. And starving doors. Play. With broken toys in hollow rooms where no one talks. Children lost in over sized skins. Rewinding the highs of crashing Edens.
Face the bed. Coax the choice. In stumbles of trust that inevitably betray delicate demons. Not as evil as they thought they were. Trace the wrinkles in the dark with a heavy finger. Drawing pictures no one can see. Saying things no one can hear.
Pressing the pain for some relief from all this numbness. Every breath a siren. Rushing people away.
The universe is big, but the world is small.
When you don't want to be found.
I turn on the light and wait for someone else to see.
What I always have.