If I could breathe at all
I would breath fire
I would squeeze my eyes as tight as they could go
so tight
supernovas burn my irises
I would stand in front of a dusty mirror
speckled with hairspray residue
trying to be pretty, gotta be pretty
I would turn my face up to a low popcorn ceiling
(I'm suffocating)
My adams apple paling in the stale winter light
I would smile a wicked smile
it's cynical, it's hysterical
and I'd look back down
into eyes that have long lost a light
my freight train lips
always on course to smile
heading over the edge
and the cars are all smashing
metal twisting
the brakes have failed
I have failed.
I inhale
my smile parts
and flames curl around the mirrors edges
flames scorch my face
and the train is gone, burning in the bottom of a smokey abyss
off the bridge, off my rocker.