Life is a snail, whose slime is the journey of a trail that slowly extinguishes
You are the shell that keeps me intact, the seed which I grow in
Hyper-sensitivity is the key
Listen, to the soft slow mush of pining against tree-bark,
I can’t stop thinking. It’s too hard.
Even when I’m asleep I’m thinking.
It takes a lot of energy, but technically
When I zap out and appear to be ‘blank’
I’m still thinking. Thoughts fill my head
and I swear sometimes other people can hear them or maybe it’s the expression
on my face. My thoughts are really
blunt, like the darkness embodied in this black
dot- stark, harsh.