26 February, 2013

I'd Rather Be Home

Memories rise in my throat
Like an acid sort of bile-
So many things I can't explain
And a dull ache in my head.
My mouth feels full of cotton,
My dreams, I fear, won't help.
The chip on my nails,
The bite I can't repress,
All these things set
My teeth on edge,
As lately they always
Do seem to be.
So empty of water,
So glad for my pencil-
I wish I could
Describe this better,
This tingle in my bones
This ripple across my skin.
It's like I've been
Locked in a closet
And my skeletons surround,
Can't gain my footing
For the shoes piled.
It's like I'm stuck
In a tent that is
Too small and stuffy,
But the zipper won't budge
And the ground is hard.
Will I sleep?
Will I dream?
Will I cry
Or inside scream?