I wrap myself in a dark embrace
in hopes that that panic will subside
and cocoon me into a new something
or other that can take my mind off of
a shapeless universe.
And it smells of grass and stardust,
things you reach for and don't obtain.
It's a warm summer snow,
and I get lost-
I get so very lost-
inside of the maze of secrets.
Sometimes I think I want to burn out
of this town and disappear into a cloud
of cigarette smoke,
if only to shock them to stillness.
Maybe then
they would see all the yesterdays they've missed
and can feel the way I do.
But that's just thoughts ricocheting
off of the porcelain vase of a brain.
It doesn't mean a thing.
