i’ve been folding train tickets into paper planes and casting them like butterfly wings into the night sky, hoping they’ll bring me back to some form of normality like their incessant beating could inject some form of life back into bones that are aching, bones that are breaking, under mountains of nothingness and i watch them snap like wishbones, praying that their marrow
bleeds golden enough that you can look at me and say ‘well done’
i’ve been stripping bark off magnolia trees and i’ve been gifting it to myself in the form of late nights with eyes closed and a heart that won’t still, you have a carousel for a heart, it’s a kaleidoscope of just black, it’s all spin and go and you tell people when to get off and you have jaws in your stomach, you speak with teeth bared and violent, you scream from your gut and it’s a sound i feel in my broken bones.
you never wanted me and i’ve been trying to build myself back up out of clay, form myself into something beautiful enough that you’ll sit it on your mantle piece. something you can be proud of.
if lives are built from bricks of experiences, moments played live like movie scenes, then my life is built from those times you ran away, and if women are looking glasses then my life is simply a reflection of you running and my footsteps mirror yours, i am the product of a suitcase by the door, of vile words spat like venom.
i’ve been folding train tickets into paper planes, in short desperate attempts to get away, to get away from you. i’ve sat through enough anti drug assemblies in school to know the dangers of narcotics sold on street corners, but none of them warned of poison that already lay dormant in blood you were born with.