What I Crave

Attention.

Attention.

Look at me. Do you

care? Do you see me?

Are you blind? Am I

blind to this

this thing you said would be so great?

You made it sound like flying, but I

feel like Ichaeus hot wax

is seeping into my skin

Will you catch me? You do.

Now at the brush of your fingertips I cannot move.

Your words keep me in a coma and I can’t move

why can’t I move? I crave the freedom

I had before you pushed your way into my life.

You need glasses to clear the webs

in the blurry world you appear to be living in.

I need you to hear me. Listen to me.

Phone calls aren’t made over broken telephone wires.

We need to talk. And I need to run.