Regression to the Mean

I long for
Branches covered in stars
I don't know who I am anymore

Long hallways
Living in an empty box
Life is so small
Who am I

Take my meds
Swallow brains
Nicotine violence
Volatility domains
What is x and y and who cares?
Math. Ha.

Fear index
Not a choice
A temper
Rage
My ribcage
Open, splayed
My beating heart gripped
In a giant's fist
And squeeeeeeeezed

Oh god it hurts
If only there was really someone to invoke
Someone to complain to
Someone to in vain to
Because god damn this incessant throb
This demon hobgoblin jumping on my chest

I want to rise
But I can only shuffle
Forward progression
Dreading regression
To the mean
Internally demeaned

Robbed of titles
Robbed of friends
Robbed of castles
Robbed of ends
And the means...
There they are again

Unyielding

Bashing my head against the bricks

I will not regress
I will not be sick
I will not be a statistic

But we all are stats

Good or bad

Fight or embrace

Flight or hillside

So lean into it

And long for your branches full of starlight

(Look how preachy I've become)

Because Christmas always comes

Even for poor atheists
Like me

Click Complete Anthology for All Poems

Real - 2014-10-17

Gone - 2014-10-17

Song Remains the Same - 2014-10-17

Please Define the Word - 2014-10-15

Soldiers - 2014-10-15

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