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wordsmith Sep 2019
we roll sevens on one dice
pull prayer into practice

i breathe out

tip scales in my favour
weigh you up and find you lacking
what are you looking for here?
what do you hope to find within these cracked walls?

you may glow green-blue in the dark
but you are not a beacon to be followed
tracing back your trail through orange-tipped trees is an endless trek
mobius strip folding in over itself.
you can keep your concept of infinity
can chew it up and spit it out
stain your teeth red-brown
insults taste like rust and your ****** teeth will forever brand you a skill-less liar

brackish blood falls from lips
it tastes like windowsill water
basil and monkshood flourish in your absence
dirt covered toes trip over sentences unsaid
the way you speak forever engraved into stone heartbeats
silence is overrun in stairwells
we sprint
looping over

and over

and over

again

breaking bones and boundaries
we splinter reality
topple from triangle to paradox
plunge headfirst no fear off penrose
step forward
face judge
face jury
face executioner


and fall

we are soulmates in red string
tie our nooses perfect twins
we
crimson ribbon woven to wrist
are handcuffed to our destiny
braid fabric into hair

pull back

tie silk bows over bruises

step forward

fists up
dance a fighters circle around neck
pull chains tighter
silver laced necklace burns like iron
we
are schrodinger's soulmates
locked away
we both are and are not
skin touching searing hot and frostbite
each conversation is a silent seance

you can speak only to the dead in your shadow
to the skeleton in your closet
and the ghosts scratched under half moon hands

pulling paradox into practicality
hands tear from crimson chain
drip acid from tongue and watch skin corrode
teeth crack in absence of metal

she does not pull the trigger
i will bite the bullet anyway
its infectious, addictive, alive at last at 3am

it tastes like lavender and lemon peel
a bittersweet pill rattling on porcelain lies
brass bullet casings coat open nerves
leave broken teeth braced for a blow that never connects

i will watch as bruises bloom and x-rays break
lead aprons and graphite scars
my history etched onto skin and scalp
a crown of dried blood and static rests on weary head
rust flaking onto shaking fingers

watch as iron crown runs
red

watch as your blood runs
blue

so you

you can wear your stolen crown of thorns proudly
you consider yourself god

so act like it
lowercase + useless punctuation intended.
a flowery ******* to the girl who ruined all i could have been

— The End —