Scrambles
I feel I feel I feel
farther I'd fall if I was falling
darker my mind if I was smoldering
softer my walls if I was giving up
wetter my cheeks if I was praying
take away away
spilling from my gaping mouth
I'm not empty
but I am not full anymore.
A glass half empty
thrown at a white wall
I'm rambling writing citing crying
but no drops hit my ball point pen
or my journal tucked in my hand.
I sleep and I eat and I shuffle through drawers
searching searching searching
screwed my chances if I wanted to move away
ruined my future if I thought of living
pushed myself into a wall
because I thought I deserved it.
I don't, but I feel like I do.
Complicated scrambles decode my fast thoughts
in a way I thought my mind
sizzled in a hot griddle.