(Sometimes I crackle,
like the sound of a pencil
        that you wanted to break
        to prove to yourself
        that sometimes it's okay to break a pencil

and I wish I could see
beyond the horizon of my own mind
        that glows with the simplest doubt
        and with the simplest fear;
        and so some wrinkles hide under other ones

disease and psychosis
are the best kind of blanket
        like the forts you made as a kid
        where you could hide and they'd find you
        but you could still not listen; if you wanted to)