tasting iron

when i spend hours doing nothing but
write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and write and ache and andwritendachewriteandwrahehchewith -

i take on a role possessed by
self-aroused demons
calling out familiar sounds that
pick on my nerves and distort my reflections
like a memory once washed away
creeping over me just to watch me
curl up
in attempt to sleep
because i feel

lost and hopeless and empty
and dark and dirty and
in pain.


... and i honestly cannot be fucked to stay awake
anymore.