Under that tree. Security, Stupidity, Community;
“you’re Not one of Us.”
Pinpoint paranoia – the fresh air that child remembered?
Gone. Ruined. Spoiled.
Eternally ruined because that child did not know
The mask that could hide those things they were hating on.

Almost 5,000 miles yet vowels find a way
To find, claw, scar
Until they are scouring the internet for what is better.
One a day takes the morning…
Two and they’ve repossessed the night
They don’t see you struggle.

V, X, XX. Congratulations! Are the ligaments worth it
Now? Never enough. Never –
Enough to be dragged into a reality where reality
Is worth it. A purpose?
A purpose that clicks pause on it all until the
Waves must leave and judges X, Y, Z…
It’s where they belong.

A million tiny faces never materialise. One.

Snap back: Get over it. No?
Two days, red and – Not even friends to show.
Not even them. Not even you. Not even me.
Oh, wait. Did you not know?

A second. A momentary flash from grey,
Open your eyes. It’s gone but
I stood on that step. I stood and thought and felt and
The heart was protected from my chest
And immortality was true and
Eyes whispered a hundred thousand not trues
And my being.

Conned into believing in a reality where;
I existed.

One. One. One, one, one.
Pointed at me like a god-given gun.
It is loaded. Vacant. Faces failing,
Understanding? Taken.
Mistaken, faking. People try too hard
To force something they’re not relating
To. Yes. I am talking to you,

I am broken.

The waves can no longer hide these
You’re borings. Boring? A special
Distraction. It haunts me.
Broken me.
Trust, love and sweet mortality

Featured image by Young, available under Creative Commons 2.0 licence

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