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a piece in four parts

(The Wake-Up Call)

It was like seeing color for the first time
Like coming out of a long sleep
Cracking my chest open 
And having light seep out
No blood. Just light.

- - - - - - - -

(perpetual windmill)

A bleeding wound
It feels like a bleeding wound
Like squid ink / bubbling out of the cracks
A hollow shell filled with ink
An echo chamber full of walls
With no doors
A repeating poem with no title
Bleeding black, invisible blood
Translucent tears on an empty face. 
No more cups of coffee, just
Lying on the carpet
The invisible spiral
No sound, just breathing. Just ear-shattering thunder
Just the heartbeat of a child.
Crossed arms - the only hug you receive in from yourself
Heart stopped up with scarlet so thick that it can no longer bleed
Discarded boxes of momentos
The comfortable suffering is the pain we choose.
The rain. A single pin.
The key without a lock.
An empty drawer in outer space.
Standing in the rain with no face.
A crowd in a crowd in a crowd in a crowd.
Montages of mouths meeting on repeat. 
Can you hear the flies?
Singing. Can you hear the singing? 
This is the face you cannot see. 
Who are you? Who are any of us?
Discoloration on the tv. 
Hollow / hollow / hollow / hollow
Fields of fog
Everything a paperweight - - - - - (vulnerability)
Tell me, where is the softest place in your life?
Where does scarred flesh give way to soft, fragile skin?
Where are all the tender pieces of you?
Look with the place just beyond your eyes. 
Peel it back / climb inside
Warm like nowhere you’ve ever been - - - - - - (the perils of being alone)
The words I love you
Are an eternal empty glass
For a man
Dying of dehydration 
Tell me you love me. Tell me I’m beautiful. Tell me the world will never end. Tell me nothing ever was. Speak until my ears go numb and weary from your voice. Until there’s nothing left to hear. Until there’s nothing but silence.

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