Pressure

my neck has no bones.

my tongue is on fire.

my fingers seek something with no name.

I should care,I should fight,

I should give a damn,

but I can't.

chasing time,chasing dust,chasing gods

that would never trade bodies for gold.

I want nothing but a reason to walk,

to breathe,to smile

for the stranger that keeps staring

at me.

my days wear the same mask,

yet,each night,I find myself

at the edge

of every lucid nightmare ever known to man.

Oh,joy!Oh,life!Oh,boy!

I stand between

a little bit of Heaven and a pinch of Hell-

even so,I strive to open my heart

in front of all the beauty of the Universe.

my neck is made out of silk.

my tongue swims in dreams.

my fingers found something with a ring to it.