Pickles

try to let the air out slowly

it’s been sitting here since the last time you felt lonely

it’s nobody’s problem

try to keep my glands from sweating

fever overtakes everything within these four brick walls

but there’s no one to solve it

try to keep my composition

soot and sawdust coat my airway just the same as yesterday

i’m part of the problem

it’s callused territory, this system’s temporarily

deprived of logic

your air is toxic to breathe

thwarted

walloped

sullen

sour

still i

linger

watching cracks run down the walls

high pitched hissing in between the sputters

lean back to touch and i shudder

every night my mouth is dry

past the point of sacrifice

nothing in this world’s

insurmountable

who told you to hold

all that pressure in your bones

every morning im alright

a pickle wants a bite

try to let it all come easy

you can see right through the concrete but you won’t see me

you’re part of the problem

the paint is peeling off the ceiling

it’s been raining down like summer’s only sigh of relief

but i like the feeling

 

torpid

standstill

what grew

shriveled

pillars

of sand

are no match for tempered winds

facing the north side

you don’t get enough light

huffing

slow burn

building

friction

save what

you can

watch the walls as they give

nothing in this world’s

insurmountable

you don’t have to hold

up that pressure on your own

the fire has been stoked

there is no reproach

what’s left will be rubble

don’t you think it might be time to go