I stumble across the threshold with a skeleton key in one hand and a crowbar in the other.
I had run like my tights mumbling under my breath about sparking flints and knotted shoelaces.
I promise myself I will lay me down once I have washed the moths from my hair, once the dried blood has bled once again and siphoned down the drain.
And that in my bed, I will spread out my arms and legs
trying to fill the crater in my moon.
Incoherent and blind.
I feel the walls like Braille to the bathroom.
I sit down on the lid of the toilet,
one hand clutching my ribs,
and I, the second flood,
spill out into the porcelain tub.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 2:59 PM UTC
I stumble across the threshold with a skeleton key in one hand and a crowbar in the other.
I had run like my tights mumbling under my breath about sparking flints and knotted shoelaces.
I promise myself I will lay me down once I have washed the moths from my hair, once the dried blood has bled once again and siphoned down the drain.
And that in my bed, I will spread out my arms and legs
trying to fill the crater in my moon.
Incoherent and blind.
I feel the walls like Braille to the bathroom.
I sit down on the lid of the toilet,
one hand clutching my ribs,
and I, the second flood,
spill out into the porcelain tub.
