Nosebleeds

Nosebleeds

Verse 1Homeroom clock clings to the same minute for a little too long while the fluorescent bars above the whiteboard flicker in a rhythm that feels like a seizure trying to remember how to start
and you already know this is one of those days where the world leans hard on your skull like a drunk friend who forgot you have smaller shoulders
Teacher’s voice turns to underwater mumbling
consonants blurring into soft punches against the side of your head
every syllable a tiny shove from something that wants your full attention and hates that you still pretend to care about decimals and early major wars
The air grows heavy over your desk, not hot, not cold
just thick

pushing down on your cheekbones till your sinuses scream
and the second your eyes wander toward the window the whole pane of glass hums
a faint vibration no one else seems to feel
Then that familiar warmth blooms inside your nose
slow at first, like a match heard but not seen
and a dark red drop hangs from the tip long enough to catch the light before it lets go and stains the multiple choice test with an answer nobody will grade.

Verse 2You keep tissues stuffed in every pocket now
crumpled little surrender flags that carry the iron smell of every time the town asks too much from one undersized nervous system
Bathroom mirrors watch you pinch the bridge of your nose and tilt your head forward over the cracked sink
crimson drizzle spiraling down toward the drain while some bright poster about peer kindness curls at the edges behind your reflection
Friends joke that you should see a doctor
blame dry heat, bad genetics, stress
all the usual shoulder-shrug reasons adults hand out when something feels wrong but paperwork still says fine

You nod along for show and smile thin
yet you still notice how the worst episodes always land when the lights buzz too loud or the radio goes quiet between songs or the hallway feels one body short of the correct head count.
Pre-ChorusNobody writes in their diary that their blood has started answering calls routed through the wiring behind the drywall
Nobody explains at dinner that migraines now come with a background chorus of whispers that know the layout of the whole county better than any local map.
ChorusNosebleeds again
red commas hanging off your face whenever the air tears at the seams and something presses through
Each drop a toll collected by forces that learned your veins before you learned long division

You wipe it away, blame allergies, bathroom soap
the wrong brand of cereal
anything easier than admitting the signal is using you as an antenna
Every streak on every sleeve says otherwise
scribbling warnings in a color nobody wants to read.

Verse 3Late-night kitchen
linoleum going cold under bare feet
house quiet except for refrigerator rumble and the soft tick of cooling pipes
and there it is again
that flash behind the eyes like someone took a photo of your thoughts without permission
You brace on the counter
spoons rattling in the drawer as the room tilts

cupboard doors warping for a heartbeat
edges stretching just enough to show the warp before snapping back
and your head pounds in time with a rhythm you never picked
Outside, the yard looks normal through the window
grill, swing set, trash cans
yet the shadows under the lawn chairs sit too deep
black puddles that refuse to show the legs that cast them

The drip starts before you even touch your upper lip
droplets spattering the handle of the fridge
tiny crimson satellites orbiting fingerprints as the night leans closer to see what you will do next.
Verse 4Under the overpass on the bike trail
you feel the switch flip harder
concrete walls sweating condensation while the creek below mutters in a tone that sounds like noise translated into water
Every time the unseen weight rolls through town like distant thunder with no storm

your head becomes its favorite barometer
temples biting down, vision feathering at the edges
Streetlights flare then dim in slow waves along the block
dominoes of cheap sodium glare bowing to something too big to fit in any photograph
You wobble on the pedals
one hand dropping from the grip to catch the blood before it hits your hoodie
and the streak on your wrist pulses once

matching a thunderless rumble deep under the tires.
Pre-ChorusAdults love phrases like sensitive kid and overactive imagination and it’s all in your head
They forget that sometimes the head in question has been wired into the fault lines running under their tidy lawns and fluorescent sanctuaries.
ChorusNosebleeds again
red commas hanging off your face whenever the air tears at the seams and something presses through
Each drop a toll collected by forces that learned your veins before you learned long division
You wipe it away, blame allergies, bathroom soap

the wrong brand of cereal
anything easier than admitting the signal is using you as an antenna
Every streak on every sleeve says otherwise
scribbling warnings in a color nobody wants to read.
BridgeYou start tracking it in secret
little tally marks in a notebook margin
dates and times and places where the bleed began

Soon the pattern kicks you in the teeth
clusters around certain corners of town
certain hours of the night
certain phrases on the news muttered with the sound low
Whenever the wrong hum rides the power lines
the ache ramps
a pressure that feels like invisible hands pressed flat against the back of your eyes

urging them open wider than nature intended
On the worst days, objects twitch when you flinch
pencils shudder, metal lids buzz on jars
radio dials creep a hair’s breadth without touch
all of it small and deniable until someone lines up the events with the stains on your sleeves
You learn deep breathing from cheap meditation cassettes
try cold rags and head-down and head-up and every folk cure grandparents mutter

yet the only thing that helps even slightly is refusing to think about the thing pressing on the invisible side of the wallpaper
Thought loves attention, attention feeds connection
connection sharpens the spike that drives straight through your sinus caverns and out into whatever waits beyond
your body a telephone pole carved from fear and stubbornness.
Verse 5In the secret concrete halls under the cornfields and warehouses
somewhere you swore you would never end up and still did
men with clipboards and eyes that slide off your face call it a minor side effect

They dab the drip with sterile gauze and write numbers next to words like stimulus and response
treating each crimson fall as proof that their machines and needles and sessions built something worthwhile
You feel the trickle and think of every time your head hit the pillow upstairs wondering why the ceiling lines wouldn’t stay straight
each childhood nosebleed a rehearsal for this
unpaid testing on a nervous system that never volunteered
When they push too far and the room warps inward
metal groaning

glass screaming in registers only dogs and children hear
the blood jets sharp and sudden
spattering their lab notes with punctuation they never planned for
Their hands tremble just a little as they step back
hiding it behind professional nods
while you sit there with red on your upper lip and know on a level lower than language that you are not the only one paying for what they just dragged into the room.

ChorusNosebleeds again
red commas hanging off your face whenever the air tears at the seams and something presses through
Each drop a toll collected by forces that learned your veins before you learned long division
You wipe it away, blame allergies, bathroom soap
the wrong brand of cereal
anything easier than admitting the signal is using you as an antenna
Every streak on every sleeve says otherwise

scribbling warnings in a color nobody wants to read.
OutroOne day the town will tell stories about the sightings and the vanishings and the loud nights when nothing showed up in the weather reports
They will mention power surges, strange noises
odd behavior, small town oddities
all the safe phrases that keep real fear wrapped in bubble wrap
Your name might never come up in those stories
yet your DNA stains the floorboards and sidewalk cracks where the thin places pressed hardest

little rust-colored signatures no lorekeeper records
You grew up with your blood acting like an alarm system for a neighborhood that never knew how close it stood to an open wound in the sky
Every tissue bin, every laundry load
every sleeve you ruined with a shaky hand carried the same confession
Something out here eats strength and sanity for breakfast
and every time it reaches for the plate
the first thing it takes from you is that bright

stubborn red.