Sit Still

A half eaten plate,

loading up the the black plastic with arrogant privilege,

Shoveling pie, 

laughing at the hunger rumbling in the alleyways,

Spitting on their hard work, 

to keep the house warm inside. 

Given the moon, stars, and sun, 

complaining the sky and wind are not. 

Tick, tick, tick,

the hand of time looms.

Wet warmth dampens the seams and crinkles of my palms, 

a balloon expands, rib cage, heart, lungs, pressed against my skin, 

threatening to implode. 

What did I leave behind? 

It’s too late, 

the engines are roaring us into the sky. 

Blank eyes gazing inward,

white noise surrounds, 

drowning deeper. 

Walls of mouth emit grossly sweet taste of fluoride,

mixing with the sour vomit clawing up the canal. 

Hot twinge,

liquid filling below the navel.

Acid churns, 

swelling until belly protrudes, pregnant with anxiety.

Curled fists, 

surprise when droplets of blood scuttle down from crescent moon cracks. 

Fingertips, swirling pads on temples, 

reaching beneath short spikes of hair above ears,

pulling, 

yanking, 

up, up, up, 

slowly, so slowly, pressing--trying to squeeze the protective white knight until it shatters and the pink goo oozes out. 

Tendrils of a vengeful spirit seep into groaning bones,

dry flakes like reminisce of a fire wafting about on a breeze

peel off my face, 

begging to be scratched away. 

Fear, 

ugly and sharp stabs flesh, 

twisting into innards 

to keep from sinking into comfort and never rising. 

Skittering ants in a ceaseless stream, 

maddening itch not to be abated, 

by anything less than utter exhaustion.

Gnawing silence in breath in pulse in soul.

A bear in hibernation, 

curled up in a tight ball, 

shielding against the brutal forces outside. 

Last sliver of child,

hungry for this world.

Wishing upon bright stars in the midnight sky,

for immortality.

To see the world, 

every experience imaginable, 

and a great many more. 

The yearning that stirs as snowflakes cast down, 

mountains glittering with powdered sugar dusted over evergreen.

Wind tugging at the thread below third rib tether to earth,

whispers, tantalizing murmurs, 

come with me

shivers along pearls of spine, 

Be free with me

lifts each delicate hair, pebbling skin,

Taste the sky

witness the world

listen to its music

race the storm

and bathe in the glory of the sun. 

Escape the ordinary.

Be saved from the ordinary. 

Author's Note

Hi, this poem is something I'm hoping to put in a portfolio for a course I'm taking, but it needs some polishing. I'd be grateful for any thoughts on how to improve this piece.
Thanks.