My chrysalis, my content to form,

my spectacle amongst my bad public,

and my rush in rule etiquette –

save me.

 

My words are like fingerprints,

smearing stale sketches,

I have become a nuisance to my sanity

and it shocks me a cold slave.

 

Can’t feel the moment too close,

can’t look at the sore too wrong.

Wanting, I have

and it left me, long.

 

Humming,

 

my veins are humming,

 

turn me down and let it burn.

I am all I want gone.