The morning dew scatters over my wings.

My throat is dry.

I cannot sing.

I can’t quite clear it

As I try to speak.

My voice is raspy and weak.

I want to sing at the top of my lungs

Like no one is watching, like no one is listening.

I try to sing and nothing comes.

Nothing comes and I am numb.

The morning dew scatters along my wings.

I am weighted.

I am still.

The wheels stop turning and I feel a chill in the air.

A chill that tells me the madness is creeping around out there.

My throat is dry.

I cannot sing.

I want to cry but there is nothing.

Nothing comes and I feel numb.

My wings won’t fly.

They will not stretch out and bathe in the sun.

Not today.

I am drenched from the storms and this is how I will stay.

When it rains, it fuxking pours and my brain stirs with envy

Because I long to rid myself of this pain.

It’s too heavy.

This is why it continues to rain.

The clouds simply can’t hold it in.


My wings are covered in morning dew.

I can’t easily explain why I am frozen in time,

Halfway broken in two.

I don’t want to worry you.

My throat is scratchy and nothing cures this dreadful thirst.

I want to scream out.

I could honestly burst.

Primal instincts.

But would it even help?

Would it help?Would it help?Would it help?

There is stillness in the atmosphere.

I can feeling the pressure building in my ears.

The deafening silence,

The heaviness in my eyelids,

My soul won’t rise and this is what I am use to.

There is room for change.

The madness is everywhere and it’s solid and it’s damp with desire to swallow me whole.

And maybe I’ll let it.

Maybe I’ll dance around it’s split tongue.

I cannot undo what’s been done.

But I can feel it and peel back it’s skin.

REVEAL IT and see what’s within.

The skeleton behind the pretty face.

We’ll dance in circles with the madness,

Full of grace.

My mind is everywhere and nowhere all at the same time.

Collectively spinning out of control.

Spiraling silence.

Anxious violence  in my chest.


The morning dew splattered like iridescent paint all over my wings.

I imagine what it will feel like once my throat clears.

I know that I will sing.

I will sing…Oh! How I will sing like nobody is listening.

And the stillness will then trade places with a windy bliss

and I will be wrapped within the wings

and I’ll hold still for it.

I’ll hold still like it’s the thing that’s gonna save me.

Like it’s the hurricane winds that will release these droplets of rain.

Let them evaporate along with my pain.

And my wings will dry.

My wings will rise.

I will fly again.

I will sit with the stillness and let the silence,

The steady violence of pressure in the atmosphere

consume me.

Oh, there is no place like home.

The rugged earth and it’s power to render me useless and evolve me into a phoenix.

It knocks me off my throne.

And I know that’s what I need.

Does this make sense?

Does anything really make sense?

Time is still and we are birds floating through the madness.

Through the humid air, we are soaring and pouring our hearts out like the rains over the desert,

Like the heaviness must be felt and released in order to breathe again.

The morning dew sits on my wings and it drips onto my soul.

The uncertainty has taken its toll.

I’ll let the rain wash it all away.

And even if delayed….my throat will clear and I will sing again;

My wings will dry and I will soar again.

Sit with it. Wait for it.

Like a stunned bird drenched in morning dew, I wait out the storm.

3 thoughts on “stunnedBird”

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