i worry at times about the
state of my own
slow but lovely demise
reckless it says on my
ribcage and i wonder how
true to form i read
my stomach is churning under
pink string lights and
chaos stirs in my
fingertips
tonight is a night of
new beginnings
innocent endings
not-so-innocent epiphanies
i am tired by the
state of my union
the words of my
hero and the stench of
white on my unblemished
features
(unblemished in a figurative way)
my stroke of genius has seen
its final days and i am
dripping guilt off my
silent limbs
silent heart
which has forgotten to beat at
times out of
happiness, oblivion,
maybe out of
nothing at all.
maybe i've come to that point.
maybe the skies have closed off
and that glass ceiling has
actually formed over my head
as i try to rise to the
top of being me
i read fairytale after fairytale and
i wish for prince charming
then hate myself for it.

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