by Avery Malone 

You walk down the sidewalk
and birds are chirping. 
The sky is clear for once, 
let’s say,
and the temperature is
The sun is shining brightly. 
You walk along, and 
it feels so 
You are falling through
the hollow Earth and
you can hear the distant
careening of your derailed
trains of thought 
(now colliding)
and birds
are chirping
and the sun is shining so brightly.
You are walking
(Aren’t you?)
you are fighting
the rising tide 
of paranoid panic
climbing its way up from
your stomach (it has
reached your throat),
and they are chirping,
a chorus of clamoring 
attention-seekers in your 
head. They say you 
are ridiculous. Everyone
can see that you are 
ridiculous. Everyone
hates you. Everyone
laughs. Where
It feels like the walls are
collapsing, or maybe your
lungs, or maybe your
head alone. Whose voice
is that? (Is it yours?)
The sun is (Answer me) shining
You are trying to walk,
but everything is so 
loud inside
everything is so
goddamn dangerous.
The birds are laughing at you,
Your nails are sharp
against your face
(I wonder what it looks
like beneath my skin?).
It is like staring into the abyss,
it is like staring into the eyes
of an oncoming truck and 
the brakes have gone out
in your head
and it is crashing forward 
and it will not stop
They will not stop
(My god, it is so cold
today) It feels like too much.
It feels like nothing at all.
It feels like twitchy inconsistent
motion. It feels like
the red silence of a falling asteroid
The sun is shining brightly.