Ephemeral

One step closer to punishment.

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The moon is bleeding out.

Right into my mouth.

Its pale light fills my belly,

Widens my soul into something

Obscene, whore-ish, hungry.

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Two steps closer to punishment.

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Just like a crack to the cheek

The desperation wounds me.

Red fingertips rise like a story.

The pain is familiar.

I cannot weep for myself.

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Three steps closer to punishment.

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The darkness is a home

But I am bloated with moonlight.

Can you hear me begging

In the quiet of this night

To be relieved of this pain?

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Four steps closer to punishment

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Puncture my soul.

Let the wound run clean

Until the thumping madness

Has puddled and pooled below.

Let me empty my soul.

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Five steps closer to punishment.

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I cannot live with the constellations

Shoved in my throat.

I'll die of suffocation on these stories

Of the damned souls

That look like me.

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Six steps closer to punishment.

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I will fall down these stairs

And ruin the rhythm

Of my perfectly crafted demise.

Do you know how long it took

For me to paint this suffering?

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Seven steps closer to punishment.

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It took every breath and every tear

To create this color of pain

Now staining my hands,

Stamping itself across my eyes

With the word "sinner".

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Eight steps closer to punishment.

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I will never be more

Than a comet lost to its crater.

Nothing more than a shadow

In the eyes of someone else's

Dancing possibility.

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Nine steps closer to punishment.

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Will you hear the door shut?

The ringing bell of the last night?

Or will this all remain

A shadow of a shadow?

Fully forgotten?

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Peril.