Black Coat of Paint

I am buried deep within the swells of this home

The windows black out the sound

I nurture bundles of regret in my arms, a well nourished baby...

It yells, while the roses blossom without pedals

If I don't let the light in, mirrors can't reflect...

...denial is like a pair of eyes, eyelids close but the pupils stay open...

I am buried deep within the swells of this home

Don't let the right one in and I can befriend the tapestries painted in my misery...

No voice but my own to inspire the madness that swallows me whole...

Here I occupy space, a resurgence of apathy; a diluted attempt for stability where foundations are weak...

I think I got colder, dead versions of me litter the room

Cannibal misfortunes, mental paralysis, the victims are me - the killer...

...I feel his face when I reach up for mine...

The windows black out sound, but inside...it's loud, with mirrors that can't see, and a killer who needs no introduction...

He will not let me reach for the doorknob, a repression of movement

An admission of fault...

...I gave him the keys to my home, and now my home is a baseless shackle...

No chain, no rope, paralysis, merely bounded by fear...

And here he and I will stay, watching the second coat of black paint dry over the windows once again...