disordered

mind racing

all the time

clock it winds

i’m losing kind


towards myself

i tear apart

my beating heart

i’m losing fine


surely slipping

buttered fingers

can’t sit still

no focus lingers


through my lungs

i pound my feet

pavement reeks

anxiety


future plans

maybe sad

until I leave

change I plea


write for me

talk to me

don’t ignore me

sing to me

listen to the lyrics

hear me

watch my foolery


only attention

on the songs

no satisfaction

from other throngs


i don’t belong

in this town

Emerson’s writing

sheltered now


please Carry All Rations, Emily!



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