Swirling in my mind, rummaging in my ears,
Stilted figures want to have a safe place.
Everywhere, everyone talks of safe places.
Proclamations from me, yes, I will,
I will make this place a safe place.
Seeing through the mass of human hatred,
I know better.
There is not one safe place.
There is no power moving to make my places safe.
All of my places threaten imminent death, and
No one sees that but me and strange, strange friends.
Places crash on me. Every place forces in on me.
Run, run, run down an empty street, but
There will be no safe place where I run to.
There are no physical attacks.
It is psychotic
Coming at me hard and fast and there is
A lover and pine trees in the mountains.
That is a safe place.
Not safe from storms but safe from psychosis.
There are no pine trees today.
I search for a lover who will bring pine trees.
I search for a lover who can cover me.
Is there a lover who will make me forget
That I am never in a safe place?