I smell burning…

My mind

It turns so quickly

Scraps of recollection rub together

Fast enough to ignite

May it burn soon

So that I can be at rest

Able to shut my eyes

Without

The other pairs leering back

Spitting their incoherent bitterness

They enjoy the taunt

And so I shrink deeper down

Reverting to

Nothing more

Than a mound of melted wax

A black, charred wick

Do not act lightly

With impunity

Please

Do not perceive with grating scrutiny

Heed it with a grain of salt

My words are not for you

Strike a match

Against the coarseness

There’s nothing left to gratify

or prove

Take the internal monolog and words

While they can still sear a hole

Through your pocket