It feels weird to look back, knowing this was written over 5 years ago at a house party. It’s very strange and a little silly, but I chose this poem because of it’s firm physical influence, which has a strong correlation to my feelings this week. Try not to take it too seriously…
This world of vines with stripes
With billowing smoke beneath,
I try to escape but it will not leave.
My eyes they bulge and my shoulders round,
My ears they pulse and it feels profound.
Sounds bounce and wave through my head,
Cinnamon toast crunch. Needing to be fed.
As it enters through the vines and veins of skin
To the stomach lump of my body lying within,
Where there beats a heart in this dark abyss,
Its presence lingers like true love’s first kiss.
And as it lies there beating, a pain circulates,
Through spine of center for which it hates.
I know not of what they say down a stair,
But in mind of layers, levels, it’s hard to care.
And so what do I care? But what I see
Is a world far different than naturally.
Marshmallow pies, marshmallow pies,
It’s high up here, I’ve seen many skies.
Whether it be day, it be dark, it be gone,
It’s honor I give through peace of song,
And here I swing within my mind, my center,
However sound will not leave – only enter.
Stop, stop, it says to me, small sounds say.
But this price of presence shall it pay?