The snow swirls around a cold room
Iron in my stomach
I'm burning up from the rotgut
Open a door to invite the flurries inside
Embrace my shivering limbs
Cool my throbbing stomach
Words come to me like spirits spilled across an ouija board
subliminally controlled and full of promises
we both know I can't keep
Whispers into the crimson contents of upturned bottles
Screamed into a porcelain bowl soon after
My body is dying
my organs are organizing a union against me
they demand water
less spirits
maybe a walk around outside every once in a while
I find myself wrapped in a comforter of my own bullshit
I'm letting down my body
and so many other things
handed so many things
and failing to do anything with them
I'm a shell
I can't think about anything
I can't do anything
I am nothing