The ego is greedy,

it clings like a viper expelled from the garden

screaming aloud

like a split atom.

Prancing on my belly,

another color begging me

to perform, to memorize,

my drama,

bleeding inside

like mountains of

tongues slapping in the dark.


The nerve at the center of the bone,

blooming in my skin.

My threads of indecision,

as I hang by my fingernails.

A voice screaming for me to jump,

a stagger

in my eyes.


Something shaky and terrible,

the sour reality that rolls over and over

in my throat

dreaming myself afraid so

I can save myself.

Only the bone-deep children echo

the bloated words that drift and drift

in a razor sky.

The ghosts of old lovers

who smile from the jukebox,

with eyes

that can never close.


You have choked me,

But I gave you the leash.


And now I want it back.

The skeleton’s meat and blood

wringing from me,

graves of soft earth that rise from the rain.

I can see you now,


So you, hated twin,

you are a radio fading out,

the old bones of lava beds,

a thousand miles away,

a dead language,

a tomb.


I finally woke up

and turned on the light.

RM Nov 2018

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