In a magician's shark tank
That you filled with water and sharks
And a pound of your flesh
Before jumping in, diving really
And there's only water in your lungs
From an unfathomable height
That you leapt from and now you wait for
The inevitable, bone shattering crash
Of soft body meeting solid ground.
Because only God can stop gravity.
After dumping the kerosene on the floor
And lighting the match on your couch
And going to sleep in your unmade bed
And the fire licks at your skin
As you force yourself to dream of anything else.
It's waiting for the snow to cover the world
For the ice and the cold and the wind to sing
Your muscles and your sinew
While praying that your heart sticks to
Your frostbitten ribcage.
A root steeped disease of brain and of blood
And branches of self worth
Of two decades of decomposition.
A brain deep, muscle deep, heart deep
Skin deep, bone deep, lung deep
Pain that feels like pins and needles and knives
That curls in the body like
Injured, hunted prey that only wants to
See a sunrise that was never made for them.
Knowing that you are made of anger
Of jealousy and of loneliness
Of a calvacade of emotions,
As long as your unraveled, exposed DNA,
As loud as the words that pound against your skull.
