My head is cracking like a nut. I thought
there would be more in there; there’s not.
It’s just an empty shell I filled with dreams;
an empty shell, it seems. It seems
they’re squeezing oh so tight on me—
my shell’s so thin, like broken shards of glass.
I’m glass.
I shatter fast.
I’m stretched so thin, like animal skin—
oh tanner, let me hang loose awhile.
Keep your knives away from me, I’ve been
plucked clean.
My head is crackling eggshell-frail
I’m crumbling, tumbling down these rabbit-traps
that wrap their tines and vines around my ankles
when I least expect their fatal snap.
It seems they’re squeezing oh so tight on me—
but what are they clutching? A headful of dreams,
it seems.