A lighter in my hand
Cigarette in the other

My mouth hurts like knives
And my stomach eats at my insides

The tiny stick catches flame
And smoke rises with my pain

I inhale the relief and waste
And whatever else it contains

It’s a tiny minute fire
Like my dying desire

To die in a six foot deep ditch
With nothing but my pack of cigarettes

And a busted overused lighter
I hope it catches my body on fire

When dirt covers my rotting corpse
And flora starts to grow

Don’t put a gravestone over me
For I do not have a name to be known

By the world the life and sun
It can’t get me anymore it can’t make me want to run

I hope flowers grow over my body despite the fumes
Like the smoke and soot that I consume

There's a
walk-in
dungeon in my head.
I go there to talk.

To the demons at my door,
the once I would implore.
But I just go to talk.

And I ask them how I
know them so well
yet so little about myself.
They say;
"Son look around you,
the flames they surround you,
you've been going through hell."

GUITAR CHORUS

A day,
or two,
running through my mind.
They said the pain would fade in time.
I should'a know that they were lying.
I should have know they were...

My friends, they're there, I know they care,
but through the pain I still compare,
their human flaws with the abuse
of a world that I once knew.

I have these complicated feelings
they unfurl in my chest
begging to be let out
I release them from the ribcage
with a pen and paper
my poems are their escape
it makes me feel lighter
like happiness can fill me
instead of the dark curling tendrils
of despair

In the quiet hours before dawn,
a weight settles, uninvited, unnamed.
Days drift in slow-motion gray,
each breath heavy, each step rehearsed.

I learned to dance with shadows,
To find rhythm in the void.
Smiles painted on a weary canvas, Laughter echoing in empty halls.

Then you arrived—
a burst of color in my grayscale world,
a melody I never searched for
but somehow needed.
A spark in my endless night.

And now, you're gone.
The weight I once carried so easily
has doubled, pressed into my ribs.
Have the shadows always been this dark?
Has the silence always been this deafening?

I thought I knew sorrow,
thought I had mapped its edges,
But this grief is sharper, louder.
A pain with a familiar name.

So I sit with this ache—
learning to breathe,
learning to carry this weight,
learning to cope
without you.

I am the noble locked high away in the tower
I am the dragon below that seeks to devour
I am the gate, the parapet, the halls, and oobleette
Filled with treasures hoarded away, a gem not out of set

The dragon, born of the castle, grew along side the noble
Who stared out in awe of the world, tottering on a crooked crenellation
Being of beast its instincts and hunger took an earlier maturation
Yet unable to reach out of the walls, swipes of flame could still be sent
Scorches and nicks began to fill the gardens
While the noble tasked to straightening the stones

It took age to understand. To have the ground work for what a dragon is. Seeing it grow day by day, until dawning on the noble. The beast's head would eventually peak over the walls, know the world, and take flight. With a rush of horror, chains were built to tie down the monster. Posted inside, access only to the halls, soon separated down to the dungeons and locked below. A monster of anger blew its flame igniting the ceiling stone. Away to the highest point the noble ran, abandoning the keep if only not to burn their feet.

With the dragon out of sight and still seeking to view the world, the noble turned to making connections. But the igneous stone radiated. With each scorch left on those invited to the castle, a new brick made it's way. A decorative curtain of stone to dome the palace. Nary a brick letting in an ounce of sky, with a sliver of a gate.

The noble turned away from the world, thinking there was only pain to cause. They took shelter and sweltered. Waiting one day for a knight to break down the walls. Hoping a champion could stand the dragons heat and not turn. The noble led those in not burned by the stones. Letting them walk the halls, pointing out the ****** holes and pitfalls, the traps on display. Yet still leading them to a monster unconquered.
All fled to from the heat onrushing the dungeons depth, not even to see a claw.

Stood one knight that cooled the earth they walked. Stood one knight that wished to share the treasures scalding to touch. Stood one knight, a castle of their own. Yet chased away they were too. With a slackening of the chain, the grounds they left. Chased away by the noble who thought the knight could do not be harm.

With the knight came others, a company of compatriots. Combined they stood and made way. Presented pictions of well managed gardens. Of their own crumbling walls and remortared stones. Courage the noble took from them. To reach out and take a hand from them.

Tame the dragon
No more can this go on
I have to take control
The castle diagrams still exist
I used them to build the tools that made the lock
They're in disrepair, but can be mended
I must start now building. It will take time and stone, but I have the will
Down comes the dome
Repurposed to entry arches
I will turn that hated heart into enveloping warmth
I will open the treasury and share the treasures collected, the views I've obtained
I will come down from my tower and walk the halls of my body once more

High tide still rising
Life compromising
Fires igniting
Their ego enlightening
As they drown in the sea

In the emptiness of this moment,
I am witness to an avalanche.
My world, once solid
Is now water running through
My desperate fingers.

They say time stops in freefall,
but this isn't stopping;
This is stretching,
Like toffee pulled to its limits
Until the strands give and snap.

I stand so very still,
Like a statue carved
From all of this numbness,
Watching pieces of myself
Scatter like startled pigeons.

The sound.
Oh, the sound.
It is not in the breaking of,
But in its absence;
With so many conversations
That we'll never start or finish.

As empty rooms
Greet me with silence,
And dust motes float
Through spaces where
Our dreams once lived.

And all the while,
This acceptance
wraps around me like smoke,
And I know.
Oh, how I know,
That this is how change begins.

Not with wings,
But with the death
Of everything
That was once
So familiar.

©️Lizzie Bevis