Sleep don't visit, so I choke on sun. And the days blur into one. And the backs of my eyes hum with things I've never done. . Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline.
It was the dead of winter. The cold was in our bones. And our shelves stood barren. As we had ever known. . So our mother stands on the porch one evening.
The ghost inside my head, it never sleeps. It just rearranges thoughts and leaves me numb for weeks. But I'm okay, yeah I feel fine. Because I know there's more than one way to lose my mind.
Some say. Our dreams. Are a distant road. Down which. Our hearts. Would like to go. But I. Have always. Stayed in place. Under that old illusion. That it's safe.
Well, as a child I mostly spoke inside my head. I had conversations with the clouds, the dogs, the dead. And they thought my broken, that my tongue was coated lead.
The lightning climbing up the walls,. The finger drawings on the glass,. The map of those who used to live here,. Until the gilded hand was broken-. .
There ain't no moon tonight. It's hard for me to see. But if I can catch a glimpse of you. It helps me feel at ease. It helps me sleep. . All my life I've watched you dance along.
I saw your daughter yesterday. As I was idle on the porch. She slept-walked from your house down the walkway. As though she'd done it all before. And the moon was out.
Well, the world might cut you down again. But you know the way back home. And your best might not be good enough. But just know you're not alone. And if you slip and lose your way again.
I heard you tellin' lies. I heard you say you weren't born of our blood. I know we're the crooked kind. But you're crooked too, boy, and it shows. . Some get dealt simple hands.
I fell asleep in the chair by the fireplace. And I woke up in the kitchen sink. With an umbrella full of holes overtop my head and. I fell asleep on the table with your picture in hand.
I tied your shoes while you sat and watched the rain. Hands folded across your lap, and the dull work of paints across your face. Mom down the hall Bible pressed to her chest.
All the trees stood like skeletons. Silhouettes of spilled ink. And the snows fell in sheets and got wrapped around our feet. We built the fire evermore with winter beating at the door.
Through rolling hills,. and many miles of blood. We slept in the rain, falling;. marched through the mud.. And you were not like anyone I'd known.. You spoke with impunity,.
Drawn into the frost on the glass was a map pointing to my secret hiding place. It lead you to the tree with the split in its trunk on the way into your family's yard.
My life started slow. In a town of idle minds. Where daydreams filled the space. Between our simple dramas. . And my mom was strange. But she'd always liked to sew.
The sweat cuts rivers in the dust. On your face. While the wheels beneath complain. The wind still whistles through the haze. The sun shines like a razorblade.
Evening in the garden. Surrounded by fireflies. We'd only just moved in. I spent my time alone there reading. and planted one thing a day. . While shoveling the yard.
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We crept from the room. The moonlight spilled down the hall. And I tiptoed with you. Then we climbed out the window. And there in the yard. Our nightclothes blowing in the breeze.