Now

Days measured by pills
and how high you raise your chin each morning you wake up
the larger the house
the quieter the outside world
bombs become cherry blossoms
Drifting from a far tree
half conscious on the floor is normal now
the brown carpets become other worlds
from staring so hard you see spots
that you can convince yourself are trees
the sunlight seeping through a window
is now an escape
stare hard enough into it and you're blinded
the world can be quiet for a moment
outside, the wind chases me
trees are witches waiting for me to come close enough
but the road is too wide
laying down in the dirt
is the only way to stop the world from spinning
I haven't stopped caring
I'm starting to overflow