Sta.sh
I hate to break it to you but we're all betting on the day when
your nightmares will swallow you whole and you won't
remember how to open your eyes. we forget your voice,
it broke and no one buried the pieces. we're giving you up:
secessions (your ribcage is a civil war, your heart is the victim.
there will be no memorial; there are only red flags)
obsessions pick your bones dry, vulture needs, vulgar
mortality argues at least you're not alive
at least you can't see us anymore, counting the knots
in your neck and catastrophes in your mouth. in
your summer cage you were a soggy butterfly bearing
a cumbersome cross. now, we leave you naked and
seizuring on winter's doorstep as the little lamb who
never loved enough.
they haven't paid you for the dreams you pawned years ago
in exchange for a little sleep, no, they tied more rocks to your
ankles and begged you to fly - they said they traded your
misformed hopes for something a bit more fitting, a solid
dose of reality with a hint of self-hatred. (why can't you leave?)
this is not life, and death was never so clumsy - you are the
static lovechild of backwards limbo. instead of sending you off
to where you deserve, we launch you back into yourself -
the echoes sound familiar, paranoia is a friend: the only one
you know; selfish, he steals your bed and says his is the only way
out. escapes are not highlighted, they are blurry misnomers
taking you farther into the horrors of who you shouldn't be. you
bide the time in fairy tales of places you'll never see. (love
stories are sin and sin is acceptance) you will welcome someone
in between the burning of your thighs and you will wait
for them to put you out. [until they put you out.] you will
mourn for another lost light and carry its memory as a
layer of your identity: you are the indistinct specter
in the corner, made of onionskin. we peel you back and cry.
there are things we don't want to see, oh, we never wanted
to see your skeleton invert and your teeth crumble and your
walls come tumbling down. we never wanted to see the truth
shivering as it dies out; we're just betting on the day, now,
when you'll finally see it, too.
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