—————— i. a dragon's claw; merely leftovers of the moon from last night's revolution, and he beseeched a god long absent: "how'd you forget my name in the grave last week?"
ii. i break bones like i break bread, and hell recoils at the rare mention of me; "—we're using blood for watercolors baby—" 'cause sometimes, i don't think they understand my heart.
iii. god took the world to the doctor, and asked for a cure he couldn't afford; for the sun has already set in the palms of my hands, o' father... and there can only be so many bones knitted together in this womb.
iv. recall that, reality only reveals itself when it feels like making a fool out of someone; and i don't know what stage of grief i'm in— or if I'm even in one at all.
v. i drink tea with ghosts every other tuesday, trying to make sense of it all; because at some point, —i'll stop eating bullets for people's whose eyes pull triggers.
vi. mama always did raise me to be a sword, and i killed when she told me to. because, you see— the fragile things die in the cold, and what i find interesting is that i've remained; and ultimately? it's a beautiful thing.
vii. and when will i learn? that mercy is false hope amongst all else, darling, but enough already; this poem's got universes full of emotional baggage.
viii. you said you're a dreamer? great, get in line kid, you'll get a chance to change the ******* world, just take a number —like the rest of us; but, then again... "the world has always been ready to receive you, hasn't it?"