The Head Bleeds Into Everything.

Made too paper thin

You bought yourself a second skin;


Tucked in tight to hide the crumbling.


Housed within

The thick of it

The core is a trembling sparrow,


Left out in the cold

Of the deepest sheltered shadow.


The chemistry can seem

So insubstantial.


There is danger in your veins.


One knock

One shudder

Away from centre


Sets you reeling for days,


Out of ordinary orbit

To a ceaseless spin.


When the edges become untucked

You will spill,

Onto anything that still clings.



4 thoughts on “The Head Bleeds Into Everything.

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