“Yes, I think thoughts through cogs and machines.”

Head in my mouth.
The night sky spins dull,
Into black.
Jabberwocky, Jabberwocky.
Spit curls into spray,
And then is now.This Is a MetaphorMy room.
Four walls
Of slumber.
Sucking my fist
I am here
As a threat to myself.

My friends
And I
Sit here sometimes
And we play
Recital.
When I clap my hands

People behind the glass, they laugh
(you bitch, you bitch).
Sometimes I stop and
I think, “wait a minute,
This is my future.”
O God, Now I must go back.