water-logged chest.

and each time my chest tightens just a bit more,
thoughts a Gordian knot of horrors
turn it off, please, just turn it off –

reprieve is a paradise, and lost words a treasure
and yet, when I speak, I go only to Hell first.

bloody, I’m bloody
bandages wrapped in barbs and hurt
offering a salve that will eventually
numb me

numb is not alive, though,
and I just want to be alive.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s