Rickey Rivers Jr
A bump in the nose, inside reflection, outside looking up to the sky, I’m kind of high. I hope that’s okay. I jump from cloud to cloud, girl to girl. It’s my world at the end of the day. Hey, I’m just being honest, no reason to lie. My last relationship ended with a punch to the face. I know what you’re thinking, it wasn’t me. I swear I was sinking into calamity. I’m often in the pits of hell. I yell to myself from inside my space mind prison cell. Well, there’s no reason for details. I’m away from the past. It’s time to move on from the last. Still, my face hurts from the punch. There’s an indentation in me, and I can feel it deeply. There’s pain, but I seal it away, steal it away. I don’t care if you’re buying or not. I’m trying a lot. I’m tying what’s left of me into cloud shaped knots. My heart is a pot and it’s boiling over. I go over so much in my mind. It’s hard to find a person these days, but I’m diligent. I promise I try. I cry myself into pool, and drift on the drool.
There’s something crawling around. It’s in the walls. I usually hear it at night time. It moves in a hurried pace. It’s looking for something, or maybe it’s running from something. I can’t even tell. It’s been like this for the past two weeks. It’s scurrying inside the walls. It’s shifting as I sleep, or try to sleep. It’s moving like an animal. I can’t even tell how large it is, because it changes in size. Sometimes it’s like a roach. Sometimes it’s like a squirrel. It doesn’t even make a noise otherwise. It’s nocturnal. In the day it seems to be away. I think I need to tape up my vents, and all the cracks in the walls. Now that I mention it, there’s a lot of cracks in the walls, and they’re different sizes too.
Rickey Rivers Jr was raised in Alabama. Tree House can be found on Amazon.