Penciled Poisoning Poem by Jacob Underwood

Everything in my eyes fogs and distorts and my hands start to tremble.
the paper staring back at me and the shredded remains of wood and metal.
gray ivy and pink irises staring at me waiting for me to fix their cyclops curse.
I don't know how to fix you my hands keep wanting to give I think we both need a nurse.
I wish I was talented. I really do you are supposed to be my lifeline.

symmetry can't seem to ever be complete or satisfactory, it's always off by a freckle.
my head shakes my anger giving me a migraine headed straight for my temple.
and the bones in my head start to splinter from the stress making a woodchipper verse.
I really want to just get them together before this can get so worse.
I feel like I've hit my potential. This is all I'll ever be I'm stuck on my own shoreline.

My arms covered paper flowered wounds and my hands at this point ae anything but sterile.
As my vision starts to make my drawn eyes melt and the colors mix, I think I'm going mental.
I think I finally got one down with the ivy painted eyes looking a little less fierce.
but at this point I feel like I want chew off my fingers and leave them sperse.
room glowing blue as the window start to send in a scorching sunshine

its either the tiredness or the winter sun sends waves of burn and mettle.
through my skin I can't shake I can't burn I have to be gentle
I look at my drawings at they start to look as tacky as a cardboard purse.
I really can't do this anymore, but I don't want to require a hearse.
but the eraser of my pencil starts to glow and shine in crystalline

I have made up my mind to take the eraser and settle.
I rub it against my skin as it starts to go clear and after this it can never get worse.
now I am nothing no one except for drawings of eyes and candleshine