You Say North Leads to Home

I wear mood rings in hope that

Someone will tell me what I’m feeling

Joy, madness, sadness

Control, I am independent.

Or

I can’t stand it.

I know what I want.

Or do I need to shed this off

My weak bones.

As my pen dries out

I know more and

More

That

I don’t have

The strength

To choose

For 

Myself

When

To

Stop.

I wear mood rings in hope that

Someone will tell me what I’m feeling

Joy, madness, sadness

Control, I am independent.

Or

I can’t stand it.

I know what I want.

Or do I need to shed this off

My weak bones.

As my pen dries out

I know more and

More

That

I don’t have

The strength

To choose

For 

Myself

When

To

Stop.

It seems north, south, east, and west don’t matter much

 when your legs aren’t the ones taking you there

 or your mind the one deciding to go

 where?

do we care?

when parallel lights are flying by

 one, two three

 left,

 one, two

 right,

 pause

 “hey man! how’s it going?”

 one, two, three,

 four, five, six

 stop.

lights aren’t flashing, you’re the one gliding.

 That high pitch is…dizzying.

but that sudden drop?  

 woah

 pools the blood to the underside of your skull

 quicker than the rectangles of sun have traveled

 from feet

 to face.

spin, high pitch

turn, which way?

forward,

left,

 one, two three,

 four fix six,

 the sun soars,

 seven, eight

spin,

a new room.

where? now you’ll realize how much you definitely do not care.

skin presses hard to ice on a new surface.

are you wearing any clothes?

 here, you’ll shutter

 but be told, “oh honey, don’t move”

 by a cooing voice sweeter than the apple juice being poured 

through your lips.

you won’t remember standing.

 but maybe,

 again,

it wasn’t your feet that brought you here.

darkness.

body slide..

encased,

pounding, such pounding

booming.

 but sleepy, nonetheless.

booming.

 such BOOMING,

so sleepy, we drift.