The moon unveils the cold side of my face – I know the difference now. The contrast between myself and my reflection; palms remain on the ground. Shadows echo the darkness, penetrating an empty room; drowning in sweat, tears drool down my neck, a dry mouth swallows it’s doom. Relapsed into silence, salvation swims through my veins; spellbound by desire – sweet tempest, you are to blame. Heart palpations sing louder, my mouth is a cave for cries; devouring static white noise, a predisposition to die. Scars gloss over the surface of my skin: glittering, seared, and chained. Divine as graveyard flowers, I bury myself in your shame. Cradling my own corpse, caked nails dig into my thighs; a disturbance, I am disturbed – a compulsion for beauty in demise. Paralysis sways me to sleep – or at least we can pretend; the contrast between myself and my reflection, it’s all just a dream in the end.

3 thoughts on “1-800-273-8255

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s