Lines from poems and poets run rampant in my head.
Past literary figures leave me breathless and dead.
Leaving me to sulk silently in my empty bed.
Grinding my teeth to the point of no return.
Getting through each day with each sad song I learn.
Knowing my pictures are what you wish to burn.
The truth is out and now it's your turn.
Driving empty streets wishing I had a direction.
A destination, anything to keep my eye off my reflection.
Knowing it takes all your strength to maintain your complexion.
I'm a scab, a slit, a wrist with an infection.
Day two and feeling mostly indifferent.
lack of flavor, life, insipid.
There are hints that point to the innocent.
Realizing slowly, this is it.
Cold nights and an empty stare.
Your wellbeing is beyond my care.
Nothing I do or say is fair.
Take everything, take it all, even my air.
