Carrying stress in the lower jaw.

The world is loud and colorless, a static on the screen, The hollow in the center is the only thing that’s keen. I’m looking for a comfort in the things I used to know, But the seeds I planted years ago just refuse to grow. My brain is like a circuit that’s been jammed on overdrive, Forgetting how to function just to learn how to survive.

The numbness was a blanket, a heavy, velvet shroud, But now the silence hits me like a thunder-clap from a cloud. Everything is heavy now, every feeling is a flood, Like acid in the system or a fever in the blood. It’s too much at the doorstep, it’s too much on the skin, Trying to keep the outside from crushing what’s within.

I’m drained before the morning, I’m exhausted by the light, After spending half a lifetime just hiding from the sight. The things that make a normal person feel happy or at ease, Just feel like bitter wind-chimes or the rustle of the trees. It’s a rewiring of the vessels, a remapping of the soul, Trying to find a version that is integrated and whole.

But the middle of the process is a lonely, jagged place, Where you’re looking for a meaning in a blank and empty space. You’re not broken, you’re just opening a door that’s been nailed shut, And the healing feels like salt inside a deep and fresh-faced cut. So you sit inside the voltage and you endure the aching brain, Knowing sunlight only follows when you’ve witnessed all the rain.