I climbed the rotted staircase
into the blackest part
of my brain
where a fridgid silent room
awaits a tenant
patient, and strong
enough to live with
it’s secrets
it's burdens
heavy as the
Earth.
.
I gave you the key
and my faith
” It’s going to be tough.”
” I can handle it.”
You were so sure.
But I knew I would
destroy you
in the end.
.
I wondered about you
up there,
alone with my
raw, unpolished thoughts.
Sometimes I cried,
knowing that I was hurting you.
All my painful words
and horrors
came to live with you
in the dark room.
.
I can feel your screams.
They reverberate through
my body
to this day.
.
Grief swallowed me,
and shoved me up the stairs
where blood spilled over
the steps
and pooled at my feet,
icy, and thick as tar.
” Go see,”
” Go see what you have done.”
Grief whispered.
.
I already knew.
You said you could fix me
repair my mangled
memories.
I didn't believe you.
In the dark room
I saw you sit on the
window sill,
while my demons played
at your feet.
You reasoned with
the glass.
.
I saw you open the latch.
I saw you let go.
you fell.
Ifel alongside you.
Deeper into my
warped little mind
where I buried myself in
guilt.
.
It was my undoing
that left you
to rot
in my
darkness.
.

words are limbic
chemical nonsense

a whole mess
wallpapers my cranium
in semantic membrane

but
my floating mass
still greys with age

I am but a brain,
swiss-cheesed
and ink-addicted.