It. Starts. Slow,

A tremor shaking low in the bones

Consumes the skull

And squeeze squeeze squeeze the whole.

 

Tick, tick, tick, tick,

The clock on the wall goes down

And I can’t think

                        Can’t think

                                                Can’t think

                                                                        Can’t think

                                                                                                It’s a brainfreeze

            STOP

                                    Click

                                                            Moving on

Ice melts quick in a hot hand grip

And slithers down

                                    Down

                                                Down

                                                            Down

Deep into the stomach and seethes

            Drip down drip down

                                                Oh god find the antifreeze

I’m not a machine but they only seem to see one

                                    So heal me just the same

                                                And I swear

                                                That I’ll be

                                                Just as good

                        Even better

                                                            Than you’d ever ever need.

 

Time speeds up, and seconds start to fly

Limbs rusted shut, get the oil get the oil

Throat eroding open to reveal a clockwork intricate

Shutting down

                                    Shorting out

                                                            Grind grind grind grind grind grind grind grind

                                                                                    Grind grind grind grind

                                                                                                                                    STOP

                                                            Click

                        Moving on.

 

Lungs little more than popped balloons, burning rubber

            Smoke billows out through teeth clenched tightly

Streaming into glassy eyes

                        Just the smoke, just the smoke

                        The machinery’s not defective

                                    Not defective

                                    Not defective

                                    It is not defective

                                    I am not defective

                                                But god what if

                                                            But I’m not

                                                            But I am

                                                            But I can’t be

                                                            But I am

                                                And they don’t like it

                                    Don’t like it

                        Don’t like it

            Don’t like it

I need the pills I can’t afford

            And they don’t like it

So they squeeze

                        And squeeze

                                    And squeeze

                                                And squeeze

                                                            And I scream

                                                                                                "STOP!"

                        Click.

                                                Moving on.

 

The recorder in my head is working really fast pace

            Efficient and effective and clean and             quick to cut

                        A hundred thousand voices amplified beyond belief

                                    All amounting to just one thing one thing one thing one thing

                                                                        No

                                                                                    No

                                                                                                NO

                                                                                                            NO.

Failure is not tolerated

            You have failed

                        Have failed

                                    Have failed

                                                Have failed

                                                                        Shut down the dysfunction

                                                                                    Dysfunction

                                                                        Dysfunction

                                                Dysfunctional machinery will be fixed or further broken,

                                                So melt it down and give it back

                                                            To the imperfect world it spawned from.

 

Shut it down

                        Shut it down

                                                Shut it down

                                                                        Shut it down

                                                                                    For god’s sake, my sake PLEASE

                                                                                                Shut me down

                                                                                    Lift the hand

                                                                        Line the chamber

                                                            With a bag of smoky bullets

                                                And one melted down

                                                                        Deep down deep down

Lift it clench it try to breathe but tears are leaking out instead

So spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it spin it

 

                                                                        STOP.

                                                                                                bang

                                                                                                            Moving on

 

And all that’s left in sixty seconds gone by

            Is a girl staring blankly at a scratched glass screen

                        Tears streaming down empty cheeks

                                                With nothing left to say

                                                            And an overworked heart

                                                                        Pounding pounding pounding pounding

                                                                                    In the aftermath of a self-attack

                                                                        She did not start,

                                                            Did not want

                                                And god knows she can’t control.

Let it go let it go let it go let it go

                        She wants to, so badly

                                    But no, no, no.

                                                                        No.

 

Tick, tock, click, clock

                        Help me help me help me help me help me help me

                                                And stop, stop, stop.

                                                            STOP.

                                                                        Moving. On.