Winter left behind
a labyrinth of addictions,
chains of solitude
that took you the whole summer
to break,

Long sleeves on a sunny day,
pockmarked with exhausted pain,
delivered in fractures
only you can see on your face.

The mirror: a split-screen
of everything you see
versus
everything that you feel.

You have been staring
at your plate until everything
has grown cold.
You have drowned yourself in changes:

it is no wonder you do not feel whole.

Winter left behind
a fraction of yourself.
You scale the branches
in the bloom

only to wake up ******,
alone,
another winter's afternoon.

Fingerprints of comfort
cover the knife which
bears passion's blood.

I busted my brains
open and scooped
out the raw flesh
and useless ****** material

only to replace it
with dashes
of schizophrenic paprika
and hits of new world
ordered acid....