my shadow grabbed me by the feet and grew taller than i am

bought a mockingbird but the damn thing won’t sing
had a dream I was buried alive
with nothing but a broken jaw and a diamond ring.
you gave a new meaning to my whole ‘black hole head’
that leaves me shaking and burning
at the foot of my bed
and maybe you write songs to listen to while it rains-
and mimic a voice that whispers about
sewing machines and trains.
but you have empires to crush,
stars to cross out
souls to save with a single touch
i’m going to get the solution for fear tattooed ‘round my wrist
right over the skin
that sharp things once kissed
I told you that I refused to fall in love with fiction
and you laughed and asked
if I even knew the difference
anymore.

lately i've been drawing nothing but
pretty glass girls and small boyish kings.
been living awhile but haven’t learned
a single thing
except that cloudy weather keeps me in bed
and maybe I love this girl down in Missouri
and the deep south couldn’t be any deeper
or that my tongue guts and head
are sick of these fucking meds.
OK so maybe I lied -
about forgetting everything and that most people are good for nothing
I know I was selfish
but for now my hands are tied
knotted with misery and achy winter bones
my loves are always so far away
and they always pass through but never seem to stay
for long
a severe case of transatlanticism since the day I was born
remember when we were all caught up
over that boy with his thorn?
just a little kid but he’s all grown up now
in most ways at least
where the wild things are, the jungle book
that monstrous beast
with a tiny baby boy sittin at his feet.
long eyelashes and horseshoe crabs.
we were stupid kids, wasting years pretending to be sad.
“there’s not a hole in your head if you don’t want there to be”
well tell me if I smashed that pretty head open
what kind of secrets would pour out?

they said “stop thinking about just yourself”
which is funny because I can’t seem stop talking
about everybody else