Sunday, November 2, 2014

The Cracks Speak

Allow me please to speak from my head.  From the fractures in my skull that are so concerned with control that they cause me to nearly spin out every day.  Perhaps there is nonsense, undoubtedly there are falsifications, but they are getting so restless that I must let them escape lest they bury themselves further inside and lead to my own demise.

When was the last time you killed yourself?  The last time you died?  Are you awake while you're living, or have you just managed to survive?  I'm a fly on the window, a bug on the wall.  I'm a man in pajamas walking hastily through the mall.  I'm a dancer in high heels unprepared for the fall.  I'm a broken church window made with stained glass and all.

I've got nothing to say here but I found a new soapbox.  I've got nothing to say here but I have an audience so I'll say it.  If there is an ear then it will listen to my words.  I've got nothing to say but I can spin it passed the absurd.  No one will believe me until their guard is down, but that's when I sneak in and press far beyond what initially is found.

I'm a broken wing on a butterfly.  No one can deny my external beauty.  I've become dysfunctional but don't tell me.  I'll keep trying.  My nerve endings still have something in them.  I still feel something.  I'm boiling over, a pot ready to explode. I'm convulsing like a seized patient on his near-death bed.  I'm a bedpan that has spoiled.  I'm a guest who has overstayed his welcome and I'm oblivious to my inconsiderateness.

I'm a hard boiled egg that doesn't get the yolk.  I'm a chicken that hasn't hatched but somehow is standing.  I'll admit to my existence but won't tell you where I've come from.

I'm a frature on the wall and the wall is your head.  Your head is your mind though wish it was dead.  I'll work to "improve" you with these delusions that I've said.  If you listen real closely, you'll see that I too I'm dead.

I won't admit to my decaying but my tissues are eroding.  I won't tell you I'm dying, though my bones are corroding.  I won't tell you that I'm setting the fuse for the bomb that's exploding.

I'll just give you the impression that with knowledge I am loading, your brain and your body.  And you'll be better for it one day, just trust me through the groaning.  You will not explode, you've got space to spare.  You are not too busy and this load you mustn't share.

Don't worry about you, it's for the people you must care.
Forget about your needs, there are resources to share! 

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