Spoke

I should probably go
And slip away
Down your drain
Float down stream
My throat is dry, it hurts
Why should I scream
Press your fingers into my eye sockets

Why won't the bags under my eyes go away?
Purple, gray, black, and blue
Never lively
Can't all color go
My skin has prickled
Goosebumps raised
Eyelash picked
You lead me astray

I've teared down all my curtains
They now hang from my ceiling
So do I?
Feet are numb, limbs are stiff
Color drained
A dream come true

Gray clouds roll in, my fields of yellow
Black limbs wrapped in sheets of white
They all fall off
They all fall down
My voice is cut off from the world around
My bruised knuckles hang upsidedown
It's a metaphor, I say