A-Phobia.

You feel the twisting and the turning of the thoughts inside your head;
Every creep and crawl that they command your
sluggish mind to make;
you feel the train fall off the rail road tracks,
and it's like a [miracle]
watching the flames from the wreck
burst inside of the irises in your eyes.

You feel the edge of the fallen star
cut infinate through the edge of your thoughts,
but it's beautiful at the same time.





And you're lost.

You look at the numbers and bite your lip,
with intensity racing down your spine.
You sort through the cards to get mismatched in the deck,
and it's all one big metaphor that can't be deciphered.


I'm like a metaphor that can't be deciphered.

With every over turned wish,
and undermined statement,

I'm something that isn't understandable,
and it's the biggest downfall of the century.


I'm every breath that gets reused,
I'm every anchor that always sunk,
I'm every color that fades to black,

and I'm the lust in the tips of your bones that you can't control.




You can't control.

And that's the beauty of it,
that you don't see;
That I don't want,
that makes this hard.

I'm the beauty that doesn't make sense,
and I feel like I've turned to dust,
and sat in thick layers on all of these conversations.



I'm the repressed cheekbones on heaving chests,
I'm the looming fear of everything you want falling underneath your heels,
and I'm the suction left behind from last night's worries.


I am,
I am.


I am.


I'm not what I wish I was,
to cure the ink seeping underneath your skin.
I'm not the whispers that make everything okay.
I'm not the street lamps at night that calm the fear of the dark.

I'm not what makes you better,
so to me,
I'm nothing at all.



And that's what scares me most.