brain signals for blood:
a freight of the past revs to life;
generational curses come on board the ride
with their hefty baggage,
and roughneck IDs;

the nervous conductor lets them on -
offers them a ticket, and sighs -
‘this too shall pass.’

I wish to wake one bright and easy morning
Free of the pain
And the sadness that pulls me to the depths of the sea like an anchor
Chained to my feet as I try to kick
Thrashing against that which is inevitable.
But perhaps this pain would be lessened, if I looked to my feet and saw the anchor
Instead of your hands grasped around my ankles
Clawing at my flesh until crimson paints the waves
Perhaps the pain comes not from drowning
But from knowing
That the cause has been you all along.