My Talking Bird (thank you, deathcab).
my distaste for your current choice of lie
(lifestyle)
disarms me.
i am a sudden hush of limbs breaking apart
at the joint,
a sea of uneven fingertips and feathered hair.
the decay
of your mortality is as unnerving as every anxiety attack
i have to plough through; with
minimal motivation and maximum strength.
are you more afraid of
the being youve become,
or
the being you truly are?
an alien to your identity now,
you plough through each anxiety attack with
maximum motivation to be different and
minimal strength to find yourself again.
but you dont deceive me.
i still know you,
my talking bird.
