Too Much, Too Many

I can feel my blood pressure increasing.
Rapidly, uncontrollably, beating within my chest.
The odour of chrysanthemums latches itself onto the air, cantering through my window screen.
Bored to death.
This device is blinking, waiting patiently for greatness to seethe and seep through and from.
Music is too much.
Turn it off.
Turn everything off.
My cerebral cortex is breaking under the immense idea of nothingness.
My body wants sleep, but nausea floods when I close my eyes.
I've tainted everything soft and childlike with the faint sent of carcinogens.
I'm confronted with the notion of air.
When breathing is hard, you're doing it wrong.

I'm a blade of grass.
In a field of wild flowers.
I'm trying so hard to bloom for you,
But I'm stuck here.

I watch the sky change from orange to pink to black to blue.
Am I really wasting myself on this feeling?

I've smoked too many.
I inhale you in,
but I can't breathe out...
Can't breathe at all.

I'm just another blade of grass.
I stand here, strong and tall, robust and straight,
green beyond all the fruitfulness of my imagination
yet, I still bend in your wind.

I can't let you in anymore than this...
What do you want from me?

I'm just a blade of grass.
Trying so hard to figure out my place.



help me. give me something to hold on to.





Roxywaters m.f. April 2012

Anything

overwhelmed with feeling.
melodies gloss over, inside, and out
welling up inside
start to surface
pin pricks fill all the space
electric space.
float over me with that sound
break down.
nostalgia floods
taste, smell, & perception.

It Was So Long Ago.


© m.f. /Roxywaters Apr. 2012