there is a girl who lives inside my bones
she hibernates in my heart
she burrows beneath my ribcage
[she tears and claws to escape]

her eyes cut through me like knives
her fingers play the same two chords
my veins are her keys
[she whispers into my ear as i sleep]

she has tiny bird bones
and she keeps the salt underneath the bed
it takes longer to make the monsters leave our body
[but they always do]

she never comes when i am alone
she appears at night
she knows she isn't welcome
[she stays in hopes that i'll run back to her]

her small hands hold me down
fragile fingers lace my throat
she won't give up until she's done
until my lungs collapse




and i erupt like a solar flare




*[and i don't blame her]

death is calling,
i can feel it in my bones.
so if death wants me...

i'm ready to go

Tears cascade down her face
Each one that rolls down her cheeks
Is another splinter in my heart.
I want to hug her and tell her it'll be okay
But I'm stuck to the spot
So I'm a coward
Because I can't even help the girl I love.

these endless nights
i stay awake
to watch the starts
& to numb the ache.

my heart still beats,
while my hands shake
for all the wrong reasons,
& not for my sake.

i can't turn off my mind,
"i'm yours to take."
i tell my demons,
"i'm yours to break."

A man looks into the mirror.
An old man,
an odd man,
an ottoman, jammed with memories,
spanning centuries.
Bland extremities
glare back, like enemies.

The mirror looks into the man.
An iron gaze,
a searing graze.
No golden glaze
upon a face,
where youth was lost
in its pitted maze.

The mirror reflects
the man,
reflects
upon regrets.
Begins to regress.
Cannot protest, as time
floats by like breath.

The mirror frames
the mirror's flames,
burn deep, ingrained
and whisper strange
proverbs of his pain.
A man looks into the mirror.
A young man.
An old man.