Apply pressure to the wound
Circle the drain
Forgive those beside you
They know not who they maim..
Or they do.
They picked you.
Demons that crawl upside down
Twist their necks to look down
At the artwork they have created
in your paper mache heart.
You can scratch, with no relief
at the lack of real belief
that anything is possible, when
you switch off the main circuit board, that
feeds your mind, with oxygen that forces
you to breathe. Pushes you.
and beg for it to stop.
Beg, out loud or in silence.
It makes no difference.
The mourning will still come.
As will the light of day, and with it
you will have to stand
and lift your head.
War will rage underneath your skin.
The damage will fight to come on in.
Petechial hemmorrhaging will dot your eyes
until you declare aloud to the sky
that you don’t understand why,
nor to you care
to be here
You just want peace.
Fold yourself in and get some sleep
Pray that the fences erected will keep
the blood hounds from getting in
and knocking down the door
To claim you once more.