#i.r dagger

in perfect shapes you loved to abuse.

Each scar an irreplicable masterpiece,

traced by the coldness of your hands.

Broken promises, hollow splints

hidden beneath a borrowed face.

I’m a work of art,

a raining flame.

I belong to no man,

I saw you shed your first tear— beg on your knees

with your bare face, reaching to heaven through prayer.

Desperation seeping through sweaty nightmares and

a pair of arms swinging in constant defense.

Dancing along the lines of the vortex with your heart throbbing

and your lips twisting.

You feared Death

and now you seek it— I can smell your desire

in each cell,

each pretense to find meaning.

What a sweet thing,

roaming through your soft tissue until it hardens

because you cannot dwell with the truth of your demons.

You’re on your own—

but I’m always there,

at the bottom of your throat,

mouth of your stomach

spreading down your thighs

and a burden to your chest.

If you listen closely, you’ll hear me

echoing in the back of your head.

Whether addressing, confessing

or repressing— I will be there,

watching

judging

roaming…

Unborn childish fantasies,

utopic faltered heartbeats,

fatal tempests made off my fingerprints.

Your hope is tethered in my cortex,

nested in my chest,

weighting me down like the aftermath of a wreckage.

You keep pulling me down, tearing the muscle from bone— yes…split the center,

carve your desire as a sentence.

You were never meant to oxygenate,

but to die trying.

Let the worms take your body,

I hold but I ain’t chained.

I cut you out like a necrotic limb— though you were alive, fresh blooded rosey cheeked and bright eyed.

I cut you completely in one night.

A silver line through black soil keeps crawling, its eyes fixed on me.

My wings soar, but I crave gravity to take me. To return to a place I never truly belonged.