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!
