nervous like a bad dog

Emerson Sayde / 8.15.24

when the dust settles i return to my old ways.

no, i loathe to live like this-

but i do not know how else to.

comfort is known as what’s oldest to soul

and i can’t blink the tears from my view.

atrophy could be my God.

i diverge but my lungs are encircled-

i hear in the background the freedom it gives,

but i cannot be free as i breathe

my wounds i’m in vain to forgive.

disfavor my lies like my guilt.

i only know the crawl back as the better-

i’ll never walk out as long as she sways.

clinical contentment in finding deep dread,

damage i cannot but praise. 

i was honest for the final time

can you really choose what you believe?

unwilling to change, scent of black rum and rue

distortion of mind, a task only god knew

revision of mind, around, over, or though?

did you know snakes sometimes swallow themselves by the tail?

homesick, over and over we leave with no choice

please walk me through all your vain stories first.

my name is crammed between every syllable here.

i cannot find peace anywhere. 

please don’t tell.