Clatter clatter clattering like bones.
Breaking their strings, cracking their plastic.
I find before I can get under an umbrella,
I am hunted and
soap operas shriek and sell me out
to Lamar.

Lost as autumn leaves.
Blinding, dim
streetlights imprinted into the sidewalks.
Whispers pass
gone before I can catch my breath,
they chill my blood in blows.
Neon skulls shine in fishnet lace.

Running figure 8's through the bars.
Is anything ever where it is?
Maps are useless and I have
Only my ears to guide me.

In Lamar, the boogeyman lives
covered in beads that crash like waves
so you know he's coming for you,
but the tide rips you still.
He turns the air's moisture into bitter wine,
drunken you,
leave your senses for dead,
disabled.

I was a fool in life,
and I am a fool in Lamar.
You can't kill the boogeyman
anymore then you can face those
you've turned your back to.

So here,
under the bar stools,
where the air reeks of alcohol
and cigarette smoke descends
I am suspended from a rumor with all the other fools.
The frost in my eyes,
the inebriated warmth searing my nostrils,
a ringing from deep in my brain
mixing with all the others'.
Our skin vibrates,
our lids twitch,
our fingers blacken,
our hair rots moldy and green.

The boogeyman keeps overcast skies
In flasks on the shelf.
I watch them shift.
They are somewhere beyond Lamar
and this place with walls made of feathers,
the quills pointing outwards
and piercing our lips.
Nobody falls into the crevice between the wall and the bed.
We just continue on
with being nowhere.
Feeling our impalements
being teased with the mirage of outdoors
pulsing with the blood that runs cold in our heads.
We are waiting.
For death.
For freedom.
For a gift from the boogeyman.
I wish I could fall into that crevice.

A blue thread pulled tight
illuminating in the dark.
It chimes- silver bells.
The melody drops orchid seeds.
Long ago,
one of them sprouted a hummingbird.
Under glossy feathered wings that flapped so swiftly
there was a man
making hurricanes swirl and petals rip.
His name was deliverance
feat
salvage
release
disentanglement.
His name was rescue.

He showed up in sounds.
Rain on a windowpane.
Marbles clacking.
The sudden silence after a million minds' ringing for ransom.
Who would have thought, the wall was the savior.
Our lips were released,
and though they were sore there would soon
only be scabs remaining.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
I am revived through the pollen of a flower
the salt in the sea
the redemption of others.

The thread snaps.
The walls molt.
The boogeyman grins crookedly.
The blinds fall still.

I am free.

Forgive me as they have forgiven me.
I will never speak wrongly again.