when it drips from his mouth
and splatters on the floor
painting his room like a ****** sunrise
and the light begins to watch his dance
from left to right
circles and circles, words and pleas
And he wrote on his wall in purple ink:

"Mercy is a kind man, his hands are warm and soft
he holds you like a child, he'll wrap you in a cloth
and when it's cold and dreary, and the howling doesn't cease
he'll toss you in his chamber, so the wolves can finally feast."

Eat me alive
it's the stabbing pain
nails on a board
concrete smeared

it tastes like cake
sweet and sugary
it's bitter
it's ******
we like it

More, more, more
maybe I'm a zombie
or maybe it's just hunger

I grasped it
and held the air tight
I caught it!
it's in my
empty
hand.
-empty
That's fine
I hold it
harder
my nails break skin
my nails break bone
gone
empty
over and over
and over
and, and, and
They've started chanting now
the.. voices
they. them.
not real though.
my room is empty.
and if I say that enough
then the voices will be
gone.
perhaps
I've made them up
perhaps
they made me

They like it best
with dark, quiet rooms
when my breath fills the air
and the ceiling cries

I like it best with your hand in mine
the thought of your lips
and teeth and hands
your warmth
and hands
the sound of your breathing
the colors and lights
that brighten the sky
and hands

They like it best
when she screams and cries
and I watch as
they cut off her
hands
and I felt the pain, too