Bird Brain

Negative thoughts,

Flock around my head,

Flapping their wings about my quiet hours.

 

They shit on my good mood.

 

Chirping and chattering they peck,

At my skull, like,

Birds beak the soil,

Unearthing worms.

 

I cannot wiggle free,

They have me cornered,

They fight for my attention,

Drunk on their own importance.

 

All I can feel is peck, peck, peck.

 

A salt-water fountain,

Crashes through painted eyelashes,

Dragging the stain southward from each tear-duct,

The pink-whites of my eyes,

Swollen eyelids,

Taps,

That,

Won’t,

Stop,

Dripping.

 

They sing of things untrue,

And I believe them,

I should stop feeding,

Those birds.

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