“Through My Fingers”

Close it.

The door,

the one with the crystal knob.

You shouldn’t watch this part.

Your sister,

mother,

lover,

brushing their teeth with red paste.

A thighbone,

cracked in two:

a jewelry box.

The ballerina who broke her legs,

lying in the bathtub,

her bun undone.

The curtains are yellow,

and your wrists are pink,

pressed against the glass.

Make a wish.

“A Notorious Headache”

Loneliness of your own making,

your eyes are open,

and you find yourself in grips with it.

This fucking venom,

chronic and life-giving,

killing my ability to react.

Reflective, terrible,

it sits inside my chest,

and rests against my pulse.

Sometimes I can’t speak.

But I can see.

I can see the leaves,

and the way the sun dotes on them.

It’s beautiful and has its uses.

But it hurts.

Because I’m alone,

by choice, though.

Right?

“Death to All”

Bones groaning and creaking, the elegant skeletons danced.

They were dressed in a delicate array of snow, with hollow stars winking from their throats.

Wind flowed through their limbs, a song written in a language long forgotten.

The skeletons’ arms stretched towards the dark sky, praying to some unforeseen goddess that lived above them.

So immersed were they,

these skeletons of old,

that they did not hear the screams.

The silent cries of their neighbors as serrated steel penetrated their skin and ripped away at their insides.

Until it was happening to all of them.