Combustion: A Poem
my mind, the neighbor next door
Screaming
for just one quiet and peaceful night
from the outside world
can’t hear my true voice
over the blaring noise
my skin, a hive of busy bees
crawl their way up my boney spine
each hair a sensitive antenna
picking up frantic static
my muscles, taut as the cable ties
of London Bridge, there’s no release
from the senewy pull of tendons, tight
ready to flee or fight
my eyes, a dusty desert
prickly from cacti and sand
abundant in this dry wasteland
praying for a flood of relief
my stomach, an angry giant stomping
heavy shoes with double-tied knots
trying to catch fluttery butterflies
with only a net full of gaping holes
i am the victimless victim
of my own anxious mind
and nervous anatomy
out of my control
waiting to spontaneously
Combust
