String

hang my eyes up
 on a hook
 swells the panic;
 i can't look
 inside my own skin, i fail
 to find my-
 self again

 a million faces look the same,
 and their replies evaporate
 there's no soul
 behind these eyes, if
 they can't glue me
 back again

 ghosts drop hints
 and whisper things, just
 blood and bone, and
 bits of string;
 blood and bone, and
 bits of string

 family portrait on the wall
 quiet confusion, circle this:
 i can feel
 my mother's hand, but
 i can't find her
 face to kiss

 there's no soul
 behind these eyes, if
 they can't glue me
 back again
 someone's life
 inside a box;
 nothing here resets the clocks

 ghosts drop hints
 and whisper things, just
 blood and bone, and
 bits of string
 blood and bone, and
 bits of string