Driving home the fears of a future once known,
I'm being backed into a corner of my mind.
It's self suffocation, or so I've always wanted.
Leaders have been here before, but within their own.
And here I lay inside my head, howling to the waning moon.
The icicle frozen from a time way before me
Is starting to melt whilst attached the overhang of my brain.
But the drops of water go diagonal, north-west.
I see no splash of water, but I hear it as if it lands next to me.
Where does this sound emanate from?
"My eye," says a voice I haven't heard many years.
A sound from my own eye? How ridiculous.
"But it's true," says that voice.
Not only do I just hear these sounds, but I see them.
Then why can I not pinpoint it's source location?
"My eye." I hear it once more.
The soundwaves change from a deep green
To a bright orange with no return to blue.
The sound becomes more explosive,
Like the thunder in my soul I killed long ago.
And eventually it reaches a point I can't take.
I didn't try to move prior to this,
But now that I have, I realize I'm shackled to the corner.
"You're chained to yourself, myself."
It's right. It's right. It's right. It's right.
I try again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Nothing happens the other times.
It's as if I'm expecting a different outcome
But trying the same procedure.
"That's the textbook definition of insanity."
It's been spelled out for me. Thousands and thousands of times.
I look up in time to see the icicle drop its last drop.
Drippity drip drip drop, goes the lollipop.
And the crescendo of the dripping noises lead up to this.
This. This being the last one I'd ever hear.
The explosion of one hundred and fifty-seven thousand hydrogen bombs.
They've all gone off in my head.
From the north west.
I see everything inside here, now.
I've been in the back left corner, where I left myself.
It just feels good to be out again.
I'm being backed into a corner of my mind.
It's self suffocation, or so I've always wanted.
Leaders have been here before, but within their own.
And here I lay inside my head, howling to the waning moon.
The icicle frozen from a time way before me
Is starting to melt whilst attached the overhang of my brain.
But the drops of water go diagonal, north-west.
I see no splash of water, but I hear it as if it lands next to me.
Where does this sound emanate from?
"My eye," says a voice I haven't heard many years.
A sound from my own eye? How ridiculous.
"But it's true," says that voice.
Not only do I just hear these sounds, but I see them.
Then why can I not pinpoint it's source location?
"My eye." I hear it once more.
The soundwaves change from a deep green
To a bright orange with no return to blue.
The sound becomes more explosive,
Like the thunder in my soul I killed long ago.
And eventually it reaches a point I can't take.
I didn't try to move prior to this,
But now that I have, I realize I'm shackled to the corner.
"You're chained to yourself, myself."
It's right. It's right. It's right. It's right.
I try again. Again. Again. Again. Again. Again.
Nothing happens the other times.
It's as if I'm expecting a different outcome
But trying the same procedure.
"That's the textbook definition of insanity."
It's been spelled out for me. Thousands and thousands of times.
I look up in time to see the icicle drop its last drop.
Drippity drip drip drop, goes the lollipop.
And the crescendo of the dripping noises lead up to this.
This. This being the last one I'd ever hear.
The explosion of one hundred and fifty-seven thousand hydrogen bombs.
They've all gone off in my head.
From the north west.
I see everything inside here, now.
I've been in the back left corner, where I left myself.
It just feels good to be out again.