The Nor'easter in my mind won't settle
The inside of my scalp is wind-burned
Every step is won in a never ending battle
Every breath stolen like a meter of ground

I bury myself a trench
trying to escape the clutches of Zephyrus
All four gods circle around me in a typhoon of noise
Eos's sons, vultures in my head

When did it start, I wonder.
When did the black form in my stomach, in my soul?
Was I born with hatred in my bones?

Why am I the one unable to sheathe the darkness? They all grip the cool metal, but the knife’s edge was sharper for me.

I slip and fall and cut myself on the pleasurable blade of self-disgust over and over, unable to catch myself I grasp blindly into the darkness, reaching for the familiar shapes I’ve always known.
But they all are finding their own balance, ignorant of how I lost mine.


I hate yellow.

sweet, old friend,

        i worry i can’t save you

what are you trying to destroy?

~k.hem