without a pulse

only seeds were left

her white-washed cheeks

and those protruding bones.

just the little girl

next door in the window

pounding stained glass

with the hurry of heartbeat

now, there are only echoes of words

don’t look through the curtains

stay in the back alley

skipping over puddles,

smoke fills the house

abandoned and broken –

without a pulse.

A fire cant burn forever

The flames begin as bright rage

a train wreck of rushing water

through broken windpipes and

out of tune voice boxes/

an endless series of darts thrown

head on

a fistful of promises and crushed violets

an exposed wire

knotting my arms into concrete

force of bitter beginnings

 

but you know what they say

a fire cant burn forever

disposal

old china cup eyes

she comes with a history
 book inside her palms
her name is crossed out-
a chicken scratch of rage
of ink blots
symptoms and side effects
now ring true
and the doctors say
depression
bulimia
borderline and she finds the letters
of her names between new refills for medications
all her rough drafts are
 mangled within colourless skin
carried over her shoulder
beyond this
is a numbness betraying darkness
and smiling at sunlight with rotting teeth.