Instead of an ER

The perfect storm.  The rash on my forearm.  The heart on my sleeve.  The black cars in a line.  The cold air against my cheeks.  I'll distract myself from enjoying life.  I'll choose the controlled silence over the unpredictable rushing wind.  I'll run toward the cliff and then stutter for the last few moments before I jump.  I'll tell you how I feel as soon as I know how high the cliff is and how deep the water will be.  I share more than enough because I have too much to share and no one listening.  No; you are all listening, I'm just not comfortable starting.  Open me up and I think you'll wish you hadn't cut me there.  Perhaps you ought to have aimed for my vocal cords.

The dead skin scraped off of my arm didn't even leave enough for a scar.  I'm afraid of my fingers and the death I live in.  I'm trying so desperately to stop time or reverse it, but my efforts are futile.  My heart is shaking within me.  I don't want to be here.  I want to revert.  I want to stand still and see the clock move backward.  Where are you?  Where will you be?  Shall I write you?  Will you here me?  Is my more than enough too much too soon yet?  Stab me before it's me.

Dark Clouds on the Horizon

I can sleep the day away like it's lightning from a cloud.  I can dream my life away and not get an ounce of rest in return.  My days are nights and the knight has left me.  I'm in a sullen state of mind and no tears satisfy the river stream.  I have far more than enough in life and all I want is to not want more.  My desires are stuck on fast-forward while my feet won't budge from this wet cement.  I'm a stunted, shifted, stained glass dream and I have nothing to prove my existence.  I need the commonalities of others around me but I don't let my feet turn circles even.

All the words hover circles around me.  People go about their lives and I ask people to push me.  When the time comes, the push shoves, I cry out from within in despair.  "Do not touch me!  I'm fragile.  Handle with care!"

I exploit my emotions as I'm going through the motions.  I tilt my head toward corrosion and listen for explosions while it's the inside that's convulsing.  I'm nothing short of nothing.  I'm the poison inside and I'm the reason to hide.  The dreams I flee to just leave me wanting more.  The dreams I flee  are shattered fragments of myself.  I cannot fall asleep myself and wake up someone else.  I cannot live a dissipated existence and hope to find indulgence in the mundane.  I cannot meet a dress inside my bedroom window.

The words aren't flowing toward the ocean now; they're pushing me upstream.

Potential

It's the first of the year.  And isn't every day with You?  Not to put on the rosy tints, but I know You've got this.  Nor will I put on these soggy wet goggles.  I've got the letter P coming with me on this journey.  I'm an empty balloon that often thought it had already exploded but I've just had the wind knocked out of me a couple of times.

I'm making it now again.  I'm waking up and preparing to take flight.  Please don't melt my wings unless it's necessary.

To another,
     If you're going to say no, I need to hear you say it, so I can move on with my life and find a mutual yes.  I know I haven't asked you, but the question has been bubbling for months now.  We have been nearing a boil for months now.  Steady streams lead to rushing waters or dry up in empty river basins.