Unwelcome distraction
I will not countenance these things,
Such things that swim in my vision,
Static and memories vibrate together
Offering the noise of that which i should not see
But see i do, and i know it well enough now, that these tensions are real to me because they are not,
For i know i should not see them, and for that they are mine,
To cut and stitch as i see fit, torn from pages of memories to be basted with emotion and plastered over the stitches in reality
That i might hum with the inner music of the trees i fell in love under,
That i might swim again along banks of stored vitality only as i remember
So long as i control it i am vivid enough to make do,
But the tongue in my stomach pushes against the walls, distends, distorts and bends how i choose to feel,
And what i choose to see
And all the endless, meaningless teeth
Seem to dangle from my ribs and erode
That i might taste the chalky uncleanliness of anxiety,
Stapling more pictures over the top,
Interpretation of youth over present predicament,
That it might web together,
Let it form to catch the future,
For the tongue is a pendulum,
As it pushes and prods it sounds the time away
