Scrambles

I feel I feel I feel

farther I'd fall if I was falling

darker my mind if I was smoldering

softer my walls if I was giving up

wetter my cheeks if I was praying

take away away

spilling from my gaping mouth

I'm not empty 

but I am not full anymore.

A glass half empty

thrown at a white wall

I'm rambling writing citing crying

but no drops hit my ball point pen

or my journal tucked in my hand.

I sleep and I eat and I shuffle through drawers

searching searching searching

screwed my chances if I wanted to move away

ruined my future if I thought of living

pushed myself into a wall

because I thought I deserved it.

I don't, but I feel like I do.

Complicated scrambles decode my fast thoughts

in a way I thought my mind 

sizzled in a hot griddle.