Blistered fingertips plucking
chords in between breaths.
Sounds taste
better with eyes closed.
I am ink
bleeding through a paper heart.
A handful of twine
and a silent
lung.
When beats grow heavy
my heart takes notice.
When the light is captured,
I am set afire.
I am the obsession of screaming,
pounding on a drum.

I am far away.
Eyes closed,
I see white over a coruscate landscape,
and my legs strapped to a lee-way compass
I am a wisher.
Sometimes
I wish the world would let go of the ropes
holding me,
and let me fall,
back to the place I once
saw
through that little
looking
glass…

…I am Alice
in Wonderland,
never seeing the same word twice.
She is wide eyed by everything.

I am a pair of shoes gone walking.

Once,
I was an animal.
Now,
I am the last page of a book,
expelling warm whispers
(into those who do not breathe).
I am not satisfied.
There’s too much
paper in my mouth.

I am not a voice that you hear,
buried deep down by
sleep.
I am not one to tell a joke,
there’s too much
paper in my mouth.
You see,
This is it.
This is my forever.
Lips sealed airtight,
I am soundproof.