i pick on a tender part of inner skin
flush it with a wash of ink
hearing voices i do not recognize
yet feel at an odd sense of clarity
i have been to this phase of
self enclosure many times before
yet i have never felt this real;
stagnant and disguised
a face you remember only
for tunnel eyes and bitten lips
i play games with my mind and
fool myself a million times
by saying
i am feeling alright, just alright
even when i am
cringing at my own voice and
fuming at the multiple fuses i light
within the center of my heart
where veins are black
and joy is short-lived.
i would love to seal my lips
and never utter another
and never hear the sounds of things i despise
cracking a million mirrors along the way
to hide my crumbling features
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