So many panics, so many floods

Guilt and remorse, what-ifs and blood.

Should we have… could we have… why didn’t we…? The replay runs.

..wishing terribly that dark rust-red color was mud, only mud.



Today has been tearing

And pain;

Blood spilled,

Trails in the kitchen.

Fear and pain, sharp to be tamed

Anxious and selfish, now bereaved and blamed?

Have I done something terrible, is this guilt rightfully mine

Can I ever escape from this dread in time?


Each night my silk-skin shudders
And my yarn-hair starts to fall
The black matte buttons that give me sight
Grow dim and lose their light.

The nightmares climb up bookcases and
Nest in the dust on my grin
They stretch their claws in my overalls
And kiss the freckles on my chin. 

I cannot fight the shadows, so my weaknesses grow strong
Each night the dimness fills my limbs
And seeps into my soles. 

I try to whisper, “help me, please”,
But the child-folk cannot hear. 
So tears of dust fall from my eyes
And I let the shadows near. 

With dawn my shivers grow warmer
And the sun brings back my gleam
I smile painted lips at children
Who see only what they want to see.