I often sit on my soft, white carpet
Staring

At the blank wall in front of me.

It is blank, but that wall is not empty -

Full of my secrets and smothered by my cries,
It knows me better than I know myself.



At night I lie in my nice, warm bed

Staring

At the blank ceiling above me

Its white paint is darkened – 

The switch flipped to off means it’s time

For my disguise to turn off as well.



In the morning when I wake, I find myself

Staring 

At the blank walls of my room.
The walls are simply walls –
Unchangeable,
impenetrable and menacing.

I think they closed in a little overnight.

i was sitting in your passenger seat
that new car smell
laughing awkwardly yet engorged
in happiness
together

she walked up to the window
interrupted with ‘hello’
eyes searing through my shield
of cover up and jewelry
broken

a wide-eyed gaze upon my skin
scarlet art visible
my secret identity discovered
what is that? she asked
            Nothing

secrets
the tiny little monsters
living in between joints and those spaces under your fingernails
toxic
demolishing everything in their paths
tearing down buildings
digging up roads
destroying living souls

you are the smoke flowing out of my lungs,
the cigarette burns on my heart.

heart racing, blood rushing -
burning holes in my veins.

a tiny round pearl
a thin oblong sapphire
a small smooth ruby
a fat opaque opal

keep me alive
control me
erase me

i want to smash them
implode them
they are not worth the effort
it takes to mine the earth

i am powerless
not real
i do not exist