Lyric to Myself

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Lyric to Myself

Restoring your spirit like tongues tasting
dust in a storm blindly,
you remember a plate full of red,
lasting hours,
the day the walls spun
and a din of loud voices went unheard
through the cascading waves
in your head.

To question why that music engulfed
nothing while you fell,
forgot the stars,
and dreamed of breath in gray and white,
would only leave your mouth open
for dust to form a film.

Tears being the path
to that sweet fruit garden,
and telepathy a gateway
to fear,
when reaching for childhood
you can store in a box,
you no longer know me.
.

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