I feel as if a bird is lightly tapping upon my brain.
The agony of it, the irony
Of becoming voiceless by the doing of something
Bursting with the hard notes and
I feel dizzy with my conceptions of you,
Sick and drowning slowly in the puddles
Of something I have not yet identified.
I feel that my head is full of bees and
The quiet that comes when no one else around you ever
Has anything to say.
Tell me, is this what you meant when you said
Eventually it would all smooth out?