Holes throughout the body—
a syndrome of the past.
Light as a feather,
I float through the lapse.

All the actresses and actors
that push me to perform, get paid—
while the silence of a clever one
avoids this house of blame.

I’m alone when I call you.
I don’t want more shame.
I’m driftwood washing on the shores
of a land called Never-Clean.

Can you help me become new again—
sand me down and stain the pain?
I’m a hollowed human of useless, unkept, selfish rage.

“It’s not that deep—not the deep end,”
said one shallow mate.
They never knew I’d touched the soil
that’s damp and cold— infinite.

“She’s so dramatic.”
emotions—lymphatic—
They drain and drain again.

I’ll be the one, light as driftwood,
from wounds where nails drove in.
Is there any cure for the rot
within this flesh, beneath this skin?

Refurbish me.
Let me live again.
Make me the centerpiece
from that angry river’s end.
Showcase the beauty
of this damage eating in.
She pleads—
“Take me, make me yours,”
as the storm begins to end.

⸻

“This here is an heirloom,”
weathered, rough, reclaimed.
“A simple reminder of the power of potential.

Grandpa found it along the river,
after the great storm—
that same summer he met Grandma
as she ran away.

This is no ordinary driftwood.
The holes carry a whistle
that sings our family’s name.”

Time’s illusions, guiding humans
Right into our disillusion.
I'm subdued by lies disguised in truth.
It's hard to find solutions.

Mind's declining. Bodys movin'.
Don't know how or why I do it.
Why's the mind a bad influence?
I just might be High and clueless.

Fight to tighten all my loose ends,
Lest the darkness tries to move in.
Just to find, my skin is too thin.
Poisoned lungs might get me through it.

I'll hide like elusive mutants.
With a new sense, be a nuisance.
If I don't die by seclusion,
I will die by institution.

A product of my bright excuses,
Mass produced and distributed.
For myself, I've become too dense.
I cannot see through my new lens.

Highly likely high and too bent.
Likely slightly quite diluted.
Feed me bombs or shiny bullets.
Strike me down with lightning toothpicks.

Lie me right beneath the tulips.
Diving through the tides of prudence.
I find humankind is useless.
But I'll bite my tongue until the—

Malocclusions make me toothless.
Daylight dies as night seduces.
Tell myself that I can do this,
Yet, I've tied a thousand nooses.

Poisoned lungs. I'm high and too bent.
Poisoned lungs. I'm high and clueless.
Poisoned lungs. I'm so diluted.
Poisoned lungs. I'm such a nuisance.

Poisoned lungs through tides of prudence.
Poisoned lungs. There's no excuses.
Poisoned lungs. Thought I could do this.
Poisoned lungs and tying nooses.

Poisoned lungs. Tighten my loose ends.
Poisoned lungs won't bring me new sense.
Poisoned lungs as night seduces.
Poisoned lungs beneath the tulips.

Poisoned lungs won't get me through this.
Poisoned lungs won't get me through this.
Poisoned lungs won't get me through this.
Poisoned lungs won't get me through this.