I’ve tried to bury my friends
the way you‘ve buried yours.

But their skeleton limbs
unearth my amygdala

shoot through my catacomb skull
in a morbid hail of
bone and grey matter.

Beneath this demented firework display,
the ghouls jitterbug in their demon florals--

if only their hauntings
were as beautiful as their gowns.


Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends

but their remains
could not remain
buried.

My brain
bubbles and blisters
like witch’s brew

as I succumb to the hellfire
of regurgitated memory.


Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends

but they’ve stolen away my oxygen
to resurrect themselves.

I guess I am only what they
feed to me—
dirt.

Billie Eilish,
this trauma is a tomb
I cannot worm my way out of.

Billie Eilish,
my head has turned to stone.

Billie Eilish,
I’ve tried to bury my friends
but

they ended up
burying me instead.