Disturbia
I didn’t notice the
Cracks have creeped
As well as consumed me.
This disease is my normal,
The cracks, the roots, are
Stemmed inside of my brain.
My vessel and emotions
Don’t know why it feels
Like this; they don’t
Understand the logic
Of my sickness.
The pretty
Lights in the sky.
If I am insane enough
To see fake
Iceland stars,
Then I am
More insane to
Want to leave.
I don’t think these stars will
Even sing their
Comets for me.
It wouldn’t take much
For me to go to another
Planet, and get higher,
Until I’ve seen an angel.
