Black chair floats
Rolls over fractured fabric
Dots of blood on pin pricked fingers
Gulps of water from faded plastic
An unkept landfill of cancer
Fills the black ashtray on the table
Empty it and fill it again
That’s when I might be able
To peel off my clothes
Flinch hard from hot water
Scrub the sin
Then scrub a little harder
Don’t even bother
The mirror is the same
As it was the day before
Just reflections of shame
Brush hair curl up
Blankets cover the violence
Cry until they stop
Faded eyes in silence
Just a short small break
From the deafening sound
That blares in my brain
When I just walk around.

~kb