quiet
I am tired
of being inspired, I’d rather take some days to be blank
clean slate empty,
breathing room?
My head moves slower than my words do
when we get high
is this fun or does it help life go by
I have to insinuate
I don’t want it.
Because once it arrives I don’t deny anymore.
I was happy & scattered on the cold bathroom floor
collecting my thoughts
in clumps of hair in your brush.
I am sweeping them out with a broom in a rush.
My thoughts are too much and to be quite frank,
sometimes I feel less sane
when I’m alone/awake
I said aloud
you’re allowed
to not think
when it all is too much
because if it were so bad wouldn’t it be
as bad as you’re saying?
What I’m explaining do you see?
You say it is but if it isn’t how can it be?
There is a mother in my head who still listens to my problems
she brushes my hair out of my face
and tells me I did just fine today.
& I try to hear her when I pinch my fat between my fingers in the mirror
try to listen when she pushes my hand to push a smile unto my face
try to say thank you when she encourages me to paint
to feel okay without busying my membrane
again.
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