These crevices of depravity
Grip me with the weakened but determined jaws.
Every quiet shake a testament to myself,
Or lack thereof.

Pride –
I can survive on this cellulose eschewing my reserves.
But you don’t see that.
How could you?
You are blinded by the smoldering smudge you call beauty.

Leodendrum tulipifera –
Bones weaving through sharp winter air.
No, I will not go with peace.
You must watch as I choose the path most piqued.

I hope you see my screaming bones
I  hope you hear them reverberate in the unconscious state you call sleep.

Draining is not death,
But existence exactly.