Writing at 3:30 am

The second I enter the room my skin
Excuses itself and slinks away.
I stand urging all my effort to find a way
For the wall and I to meld as one.

Bouquets of people, their laughter a cracking vase.
I the murky water, the single black thorn.

The cannibal crowd harbors teeth like knives.
These smiles that terrify.
Their eyes are spears and they will not unpin me.
These gazes that nauseate.

Fragile and frozen I float among them.
Fear is on my breath and sweat is in my step.
The pump in my bonecage becomes like wings in a birdcage,
Warning me of what I've already become.

Sirenum Scopuli

The days s e p a r a t e us,
They pull us apart.
Each moment we are further from each other,
Each moment we are closer to the end.

Together we have broken our glass bottles
And set our ships sailing to separate continents.

You will spin your yarn
And I will spin mine.
Let our hands turn cold,
Let the wind chill our chalky bones.

Our hearts may sink or break against the rocks,
The other cannot know.
You set anchor in such shallow waters
And it has left us with no other choice.