Everything is in slow motion again Breath, the pace of an afternoon walk, against the wind Heart paces like a dormant volcano, oscillating head My thoughts are spirograph Think, intricate patterns of loops Think waves that never break My feet are two bowling balls headed towards the Same strike, but the lane just keeps growing and growing My eyes have formed a reckless search party There's snow in every window, but I see cotton balls on string Each moment hangs in the air around me A poem waiting to be plucked If I bite my tongue, my mouth bleeds shark bait When I sit still, my thoughts circle me When I want to be alone, I go out into the world In the centre of me hangs a small bell I don't know how to ring it, but I've heard it ring And I can't stop thinking about when it will ring next