so the wind has blown
over your head. (again)
you're still sickly
come back to the ground
or stand and watch,
watch your veins grow darker
(forests of black ivy
all over your wrists)
*****
over and over and over and over
like when they lock you in a room,
or you do it yourself.
you've hated and you've loved,
when everything tears you
to papery shreds,
yawning walls,
dead grey blistered mouths
& the moons getting brighter
until it swallows you whole
with your mind buzzing
kaleidoscope-everything
hands sweating for
this frozen wasteland
lusts for drops
of sweet scented turquoise air
and like the rest of your life
you've trampled yourself again
you're like a bruised sack of bones
again
time to do the dishes
they can never leave you alone.