in the center of who i am
behind the similes and smiles
comes a scritch-scratch pain
the increasingly blunt tip of this safety pin
this pen of safety scrawls the truth
into my membrane into my weak brain
and they wonder why i weep
why my eyes roll back into my head
they must read
they must read the truth
my poor eyes that have spent
their whole life looking outward
watching the world wander by in its wicked way
to suddenly be set free
to stumble like philosophers towards the burning sun
and it burns it burns it blazes
it brings me to my knees
and makes me wonder who i am praying to
when here in this sentient center
i find that there is nothing but this nightmare
my face alone scratched on the surface of my skin
again and again. again and again.
this is my secret. that at the deepest point
there is nothing but me and my safety
nothing but the screaming stanzas
and the chorus that pleads
'me me me me
i i i must survive'
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