im dead
but im dancing.
in a masquerade meant for mortals
im prancing.

adjusting to the ebb and flow
of the uncertain next moment
that engulfs the ocean floor
i stay on my toes
im trying to stay afloat.

the ocean swirls and froths
concocting brain juices
and camouflaging bruises.
the bruises left by unwanted visitors;
a mountain lion on the bed,
**** i left the window open again.

this neon demon nestles in my mind
it comes in flashes at 2:13
when the street lights are flickering
and the old street dog is limping.
it jerks me awake and says "hey there, how you doing"
i say "im fine" and turn to my side
"wont you stay for a drink?" it whispers
"n-no thanks" i stutter
"you look like you could use one" its voice grows louder
i stare in silence and feel it coming closer
"here" i receive a handful of whisky and shards
and with my bleeding fingers and tear-stained cheeks,
i take a sip.
it smiles viciously, "i hope you like it. i made it just for you"
i smile back with a shard making its way out.

im wiping the blood off my chin
im wiping the tears off my cheeks
im hollow but im trying
not to cave in.
"it's great" i take the last gulp.
"goodnight my love" it sinks back into its abode
now with a torn throat and mangled face
i make myself comfortable;
"goodnight" i whisper back.

and suddenly it's 7 am.
the wounds are gone
again
the mountain lion played its trick once more
and im left here all alone
detached
where is my head
i drink up the ocean anyway;
i'd rather lose my mind
than find it in shambles.
i'd rather it run away
than keep it in shackles.

you see
my mind isn't home to me.
im in a mangled mess of
a confused gender identity,
a fluid sexuality,
depression and anxiety,
panic attacks and sobriety,
juxtaposition and similarity,
emptiness and mortality,

and the neon demon inside of me.