1. How do the thousands of spiders that
crawl up and down my cells appear
so fast? The weight, every voice
becomes another creature of a
hysteria based affliction. Even in the
dark, like a twig you didn’t snap,
whiplash from the shock but even a
soothing voice feels just like a lie.

2. What does it feel like to hold long
and fast a sound mind. To grip the bouy
through even the worst monsoons, shake
yourself off, wag your tail, and do it again.
I still get up with all teeth showing but
my sockets are empty and face gaunt
and white, waterlogged with salt pouring
from my wounds.

3. How can the spring not lift you high,
everyone shines around you pink with
the new pearly moon and you still sit,
sectioned off with winter still on your
shoulders, sucking yourself in afraid of
the inevitable absence of light, it’s still
months away.

4. Why that look makes that bridge crumble
I can’t fathom. Swept along a river finally
on an adventure, Tour guide became the
tourist and it just happens to be the best season
too.

5. Why can’t people change. Shoved head first
in a slaughterhouse and you still pretend you
have all your limbs. When all that’s left is
your constricted chest do you feel the ghosts of
those lost, eaten away long ago.