Nightly searing flames devour
Sicknesses that kept me sane.
I lose it all when moonlight calls
And silence claims my mind again.
Knock, knock, the branches come tumbling
Snare me in their jumbled arms
The rotten wood that lives in my bones
Screams at me to set it aflame.
Blurry eyes see blurry paths
And stumble down them wrongly;
An hour spent in lost lament
The cost of vision that worries.
Lean across me, laughing
Firelight tugging at your bones and
Turning your eyes into coals.
Let your laughter turn to starlight,
Spiraling away above our chilly ears
And joining the millions of others that have gone before.
It’s a Tuesday. The bell rings and you make your way to your math class. As you’re walking through the hallways, someone bumps into you, casually enough. They say something to you and begin to walk away. Only after they’re gone do you realize that instead of saying “I’m sorry,” they said “wake up.” Feeling confused and slightly annoyed, you soon forget the incident. After your lunch period is over, someone bumps into you again and scatters your books everywhere. As you gasp in dismay and bend to recover your belongings, you look up at the person. An apologetic look flashes over their face as they exclaim, “you’re in a coma,” and begin to walk away. A mixture of emotions, including frustration and annoyance, fight for dominance inside you. Only when you stand and consider the stranger’s parting words does the earlier incident resurface in your mind. Feeling a cold trickle of some chilling, silly fear, you swallow hard. But soon you shake off the cobwebs and make your way to chemistry. After the last class bell rings, you are rushing through the hallways to the buses when for the third time someone collides with you. This stranger seems aloof, diffident, as they toss four words over their shoulder in an uncaring attempt at an apologetic tone. Four words that make your blood run cold.
“Doctor, she’s not responding.”
Jarring flashes, in between
You are not him,
I am not me.
Longing so bright
It burns my eyes
A picturesque and violent reprise;
Of how much my heart is entrapped.
Wanting so intense
it destroys my defense;
Now left in unintelligible
I bathe myself in hypothesis.
It’s a good thing
My life is not lived seeking your approval.
Because your sideways sleights
Your quiet niggling comments that creep into my mind
They would make me miserable
If I let them.
You are not a friend.
You are a leech. I am done allowing you to feed
On my blood. It belongs to me
And while I would happily donate a pint to someone in need
I refuse to let a monster use it
To grow stronger.
Consider this ‘friendship’
I Am. Free.
Thank you that I do not live
With straining heart and shallow limbs
Thank you for taking them away,
Oh how they both taunted me
And sickly preyed on my family;
And colored me, cruelly,
The flaming sun-dead shade.
Thank you for making it end,
The hollow half-hearts, screaming
While my spine writhed within
Molten muscles; shrieking bones.
All the clamping voices that used to shout inside my body
I thank you now for the silence broken only
By an ocassional sore throat.