taste

sometimes things don’t taste right
sabotaging little monsters
sometimes things don’t look right
faces and places skewed
sometimes things don’t sound right
whispers cease, voices air through machines
metal blades touching ghost limbs
shattering inside of me

i’m breaking

always there despite change
somewhere, something
amongst my internal universe
something that won’t release
a dark star that won’t die
there is no peace from this

i’m faking

should i, shouldn’t i
remember to walk in reverse     fast enough
covered in everything, decades full
if i could just pinpoint the maps
maybe i could see what i should