Drenched in your
kind of witchcraft
I’ve become the skin of a snake
The rattle of it’s slithering tongue,
unbecoming me
Some hazy thought of a
child’s scribbles on
the bedroom wall.
Some dream that was
chicken scratched
and wiped away years ago.
Plastered over pink
A white wash magnifies madness
in the reflection, I can’t help but see.
Near or far
I can’t tell which I am closer to.
Desire or Death
I can’t tell the difference between
Control and Collapse.
Becoming the tide
the tsunami inside my ribs:
break and shatter
leaving an essence of
what once stood strong.
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