inherently deaf, dumb, and blind
to terror and trauma surrounding me.
thick wooden walls
and silken interior
protect my heart,
a living casket,
walking dead.
pushed aside,
shoved into dirty corners,
death horror hell
mean less here.
my mind rocks to and fro behind iron walls,
alone, staring through an empty window.
bars placed there a long time ago
disappeared,
ravaged and wracked by time herself.
trauma found the key;
stole it from sorrow
who ripped it away from
death himself.
i am here now.
hurting.
millions of shards pierce my
soul.
spilling mi corazon for all to see,
life-giving wine pouring onto the floor,
escaping in droplets which splash
then in tremendous rush,
sprint away from me as if
i were a horrific monster.
i am here.
i am helpless.
formed of only soft yet damned flesh,
yearning to crawl inside my sacred soul,
confused as to why this ache persists…
why this constant earthquake and vortex
threaten my sanity each day.
crippling thoughts flood my mind
whirlwinds twist my heart
draining final drops of wine
to the linoleum floor below
tiled sharply in black and white.
i curl fetally into your heart,
feeding upon your blood in desperation.
thriving on our anaerobic love.
yet this action,
this final thrust of survival,
this dependency upon your soulless heart,
is why my
heart ceases to pump
why
my mind ceases to think.
strings spring from my spine,
shooting upward toward your hands.
you grasp on tightly
as i shudder and exhale,
finally dead within,
alive only in motion
controlled by you.