burden

I feel it pressing,

This need to escape,

Crawl in a corner

And die. Everyone

Is a premeditated

Concept in my head,

Turning away,

Forgetting my name,

Recalling mirages

Set to indie pop,

With no words in

Mealy mouths when

I release the dead doves.

[ This is not real in air,

But is real in blood. ]

jcb