A heartless break, the exhausted soul rips apart
The black hole of darkness, the ultimately trip and fall
Out of the air and into the nothing. Nothing at all.
The sound of the spiral staircase lines the castle of the
Eyes, surrounds the heart with the ribs of knives,
Takes the blast of each tear, each lie and lies with the
Bed of nails - fail to reach the brain in time and die by
The fall that takes another life.
I paint the wall with my dark brown hair, the floors with
My greying skin. I plaster across the walls my cherry-red
Blood, dark as red wine in the winter when 4pm is the
Flickers of my brown eyes stain the ceiling and look down
From the sky, each to its own black hole of strife, greying
The skin beneath these eyes. For we don’t sleep the blue
Calm of sleep. We sleep the blue, the electric hue, the makeshift
Insomniac built from headaches that throb the desperate burnt
Orange and held together by PVA Glue.