A silhouette of green and black downgrade my strengths quite nicely
While a magpie laughs at the confusion and destruction playing out
On the mountain rage below
Because someone stole someone else's girl back in '95
Even if people are not objects.
Red on red, lighting the small room which thuds in my ears and behind my eyes,
Swimming and reeling, though you don't know why this is that way or that is this way,
Or why everyone must scream and kick like children
When they clearly left the playground cries and squealing laughter in the far past
Amid dusty blankets, ripped animals, and smashed plastic toys.
Enmity on the brain with scars on both legs, ripped by the explosion of disgust underwater
Which punctured the ozone of epidermis my body creates as a means to keep
Everything out.
