She is always waiting for me.
Her slithering serpents’ aching to pull me under.
I feel her spiny laughter as I push her into the concrete box of her own making.

I can almost barely feel the chill breeze on my once bound wrists before her villainous cackle chills me through the tomb she is encased in.

I am new to this world of grass and soil that tingles the bottoms of my hardened feet. The warmth from the sky makes me forget her.

But there! She breaks free, standing under the moon’s light.

I stand, frozen, hoping to finally be free from my stony prison and to never see those gruesome eyes again.

But, now, as I look into the eyes I so wish to be free from, I see my own two empty sockets reflecting back at me: unending and unforgiving.

some days
i wake up
with my feet chained to the bed
i weigh one-thousand pounds

some days
i wake up and i see in black and white
you are whirring, whirring
I can't hear

some days
i wake up and it's a technicolor dream
then i miss the chains
and the fuzzy black and white tv

funny

Semi-automatic eyelids flicker,
Backdrops glare through thick black lines.
Fast forward tracks on silver halide,
Detail removed, spoiled by light.
A scene defected as clarity hides.

Rib-cage rattle engine backfire;
A marble rotates on the edge of a knife.
Three-hundred bodies drift by aligned:
All voices unify into a singular baritone
Outfits blur like the traffic at night.

Cloud cover grows, the audience subsides
Calmness prevails, relaxing your mind
Shoulders sink to back to a perch
A low ISO repairs the flooding of light
Each silhouette regains its detail

As passers by regain their autonomy
A low ISO repairs the flooding of light
Each silhouette regaining its detail
Sweat stops pouring from over your brow
Conjoined voices become conversations

Clouds cover cracks as the day drifts by
A marble taps the brickwork below
As vertical beams shoot from the sky
Get back to your feet, pray to the night.