i am holding an axe...
empty towers stand tall in snow
-
yet
still i climb ,
(each step) —
like
a toy upon a shelf
(i am freezing)/
when
you rip the stuffing out of
me
and try to sew me
shut ,
but the
wound is not healing
(it never will)
and
the walls get stained with nicotine::
(i miss when they were white)
when i come back to, i am lost -
scared
(because it is dark)
.
i
try to howl ,
gurgle instead:
and then
i start to weep-
(and my tears all freeze like little pearls) .
.
when i look for them again,
(those girls)
they have turned into
wolves
(i remember my axe)
and they look me in my eyes —
glimmering//
so
spit on me, again,
i say
i
dare you —
this time,
i am not afraid to bite.
(they do not come back for me)
.
the other title for this poem was “i look at you or maybe you look at me.” I let people on my instagram vote which one they liked better. This is about feeling alone in a battle against many different people you care about. I spent a long time working on it.
