Spider Crickets (circa 2023)

There are crickets in my house

I let my head hit the couch

I let it hit as hard as the crickets are loud

I’m thrashing and screaming but my body is still

I don’t let anyone touch me

Im covered in thorns and quills

I push my blankets back and let the cold air hit my skin

One sense at a time

The crickets scream in my ears and I welcome the sound

After all, someone’s voice should be loud

I keep quiet and I smile

“I’m good! How are you??”

But one soft nudge and I’m done for

The pain as good as new

I’m surrounded by love, right? That’s what I hear

So why does no one look 3 layers down and see all my tears?

When I decide to let it show, to cope and to feel

I get told that I’m hurting people, being annoying, and I should think about how other people feel

I do that constantly now, it’s my full time gig,

Who am I to bury myself, when no one’s there to dig?

So I smack down the little things inside, begging to be seen.

There are things to do, people to please, I must be good and clean.

Every time I break down and cry, the guilt claws at my skin,

People don’t want to hear it, each thought a prickling pin

Im stuck on a wobbly tightrope,

One wrong move and I’m dead.

I fight to find some balance, but both platforms fill me with dread 

So I curl into a ball, and make myself small and feeble,

I close my eyes and don’t look down, but I don’t look up either

The crickets maintain their steady treble, screaming in my ears,

They can stay or they can leave, but I’ll be here for years.