Alive

there is a world of terror between my temples the sacred shaking and sweating of my palms is a testament to it shadowed figures of failure cloaked in confusion dragging daggers doused in poison and I bare and bruised stand on quivering knees and clanking bones of a skeletal disaster braving the world outside of the closet graciously crawling on shattered atrial pieces bloodied hands grasping for a sliver of sanity constantly flicking a fluidless lighter in a vast tunnel of trouble but some how eventually and inevitably the sun always rises again courage begins to pour from my cardiac arrest and adrenaline pumps through my body and spills out of the holes in my sides some how I always make it out alive