The Crowd

A crowd huddles in my head,

Rambunctious hitchhikers settling where settlements have not yet been,

But now I cannot be

For the room for thoughts I thought I had

Has filled with wanderers instead.

Their figment forms surround my clarity,

Heated bodies stirring wild bonfires in my sanity,

I see shadows dancing in my peripheral

Distracting me, they pardon their muddy footprints,

Implant imprints on my inner flesh like cave drawings,

And still I to separate visiting from loitering.

They claim they need a place to sleep

So they snuggle up to my emotional lesions with contented breaths as I lie squirming and awake

Ruminating in the sounds of the crowd

Talking myself up to kick them out

Only to stop myself as I open my mouth.

I hope that soon they decide to move out.