Taken ill by silent treatment.
Im haunted when you speak - its then i see
black tar, oil, and swill that drips out from your lips.
I will light the match that follows it up and fills you up with light.
Your fear turned hate, your wish to blame - insecurity - burnt to ash.
We’re all numb, deaf, and dumb through routine.
Worn down just enough to accept anything.
I want to live for something.
I want to live with substance.
I want to see this seed bloom and break ground.
To choke out the overgrowth that falls down.
To feed a new foundation.
New life to get this right.
I want to be the voice in your head.
I want to be the twitch you can’t hide.
I want to be the hourglass.
The hand of the clock that stalks you.
The face in the mirror that haunts you.
The itch that you must succumb to.
The voice in your head that screams
You make your own way.