Paranoia

I can’t explain the myriad of insects on my pillow

The ticks with accordion beaks that creep out of the seams

Wherever you aren’t, shoddy manuscripts slither from my dreams

And leggedly writhe beneath the bark shed from a willow

Which would’ve grown enough to weep, if not for these parasitic lies

Withered, it must settle for rubbing onions in its eyes

I can’t explain the kingdoms that erect walls around this fire

And pitch their ultimatums far above my reach

Waging petty battles over memories, while each

Pleasant recollection toddles off a stringed lyre

Crawling towards shores where beetle shells protect

And don’t ensure the ruthlessness of the dictator elect

I can’t explain the life I’ve built, that juggles its own tripe

While I turn people into boards for my sallow, darting dots

Too frightened to peer down upon my ladybugged kidney spots

Too drowned beneath the army ants to scream that I dislike

This feeling, but the straightjacket clenches as my mainspring unwinds

Releasing pockets of hypoxia into my tattered-fabric mind

I can’t explain the balance beam that narrows as I click

My weary femurs sideways to the beat of other souls

And I can’t explain the rising prices of the tolls

Tossed from booths that disregard my beaded sweat and walking stick

And I can’t explain myself, or the tears that trickle

Into the mouth of my destroyer

And I can’t explain the agony that renders explanations numb and fickle

And never fails to stoke my flaming core of paranoia