the case of conformity in hospital room 223, floor 1

sometimes i feel like
my mind is made of a soup
tucked inside the bowl
of my head, and

sometimes i feel like
my eyes are buttons
hanging off a suit
by tiny threads,

not seeing, thinking,
or presenting myself in the way
i’d assume you’d expect
me to, yet

sometimes i feel like
after all of the books i’ve read —
if i settled for less than soup and buttons
i might as well be dead

Respond to the case of conformity in hospital room 223, floor 1

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s