Pushing violently against the patterned walls
Of what I should have been
Spurred on by voices screaming down the crowded
Corridors of darkened thought
Until at last I concede with, a heavy breath
And softly slide the twisted clip
Of ink into my waiting gun, a child’s hand
Pushing violently against the ordered walls
Of what I should have felt
This ache so dulled by pretty pills of hatred
Cynical and coldly
Longing for the safety off. Now it’s chambered
Craving…
…the spaces white: a cloudy mirror. I take aim
At a faulty imitation of
My self, arms screwed into the page
Coldly kiss the silhouette of living
Death “good bye” until we kill again
“Bang”
“Bang”
“Bang”
Finally I’m heard no more.
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