It is time to wake up
from the languid daydreams
that once I treasured so.

The place that used to be a haven,
an escape from life’s banality,
now feels like a gilded cage.

The mind wanders, untethered,
through sunlit corridors of indolence
pushing to see how far it can go.

Tantalizing me with possibilities,
never reality, this limbo
is only good for the occasional vacation.

My lips are a battlefield
Chapped on the outside
They represent my inner demons

I cut through those lips of mine daily
When the stress makes it hard to focus
And my breath forgets to repeat itself

When the vindictiveness of my own words
Sews the bruises, and my stomach
Rests as it feeds on the blood my mouth is filled with

I know, vampires are usually beautiful people
But my lips always clash
They always tell the people who see me

"That girl, she's got something dark on the inside
She fuels herself with her brain's own chatter
And her teeth dig her grave inside those lips."

It's a cancer that spreads to the inside of my cheeks
My fingernails, my knuckles, the seams in my shirts
It doesn't just flutter through, it bulldozes

It's something hard and loud that makes you regret you ate that morning
That metallic taste will rot your soul
And turn your lips into a soulless brawl

Destroy the monsters
that call your mind home
no longer allow them
shelter within your bones
let yourself free
from the demons inside
you'll never find happiness
or the light otherwise

In the hours of your discontent
Cut through the lining of my womb --

Each gush a new red lotus
In the snow white tub
Of all our winters
Water thins the Blood
Blood taints Water
  
In the hours of your discontent
Linger in the scent of iron petals

Flaccid limbs around your neck--
An embrace
A noose
A loosened tourniquet

In the hours of your discontent . . .