The biting touch of the glass saunters
The curves of my skin.
A macabre melody surges
Through the hollows of my bones,
As my body is made a puppet,
Dancing to the discordant memories.

The webbing of the belt is lead
Against my gossamer chest.
Suspended in the air,
My limbs dangle like a sacrifice
To the shards below.

My vocal chords bleed
With each ghoulish plea from my lips
Until strong hands find my torso,
And I rise
Into the sickly light of day.

The cool air of the night is a pleasant foil
To the heat of the brackish liquid
Which caresses my cheeks.
My mangled laugh mars the stillness
As I remember the abyss
That welcomed me before
I nearly met the cold embrace
With such a finality.