I am the wind.
They all know I have many I love.
As I dance through their hair.
And whisper sweet-nothings into their ears.
For only a moment, we are close, we are one.
Until I leave them breathless, reaching out with mouth agape before their arms slowly fall back to their sides.
They know I have an agenda, a life not subservient to theirs.
A life of adventure and rush and joy and I will not wait for no one.
So all they have left is to smile at our memories, a mutual understanding.
And on certain blustering days, I find my way back to their hair.
And decorate it with tangles of sweet, fickle memory.
My mind feels like a glitch
A mess of noise and static
A numbness that spreads to my hands and legs
A dryness of the throat, saliva in the windpipe
the ends of my skin breaking up into sea-foam
My inner core like molten Lava, feeding off any feeling left to stay alive
But there’s nothing left and it hurts so bad
To have the flames feed off the walls of my brain, making my head itch and eyes twitch like crazy
On the brink of sheer madness, so potent and pure
I relish in my tears that drown my volcanic heart
And whisper to myself, crazed, dazed
As I rock on my bed
More bits becoming sea-foam
Fingernails falling off
My mind become tangles of color and sound, melting like it’s on acid
Every part, every piece and organ, skin and muscle feels like it’s melting
But my throat stays dry
No matter how much water pours from my pores and back into the sea from which it came
I can’t speak a word
Because I have nothing left to say, what’s the point of speaking when everything stays the same.