When did I become me?

Was I born obsolete?

To what end do I furnish these rooms

they are only closets

keyholes by which my bones are passed.

I have such an impossible heart

it goes up like a balloon and at the very apex

crashes with the weight of mountains.

She is discord, she is fruitless

a mother wounding babies

and such a mother is not fit.

If only I were outlandish,

substance-less, ornamentation

then it would not hurt so much.

Each breath, an onslaught,

a firing squad, a punishment.

I was not made to last.

I hold out until morning

chugging the aurora,

the stars so contentious

in departure

my soul a scintilla,

a needle’s eye view

of memories unbending.

I am sick possibly delirious that has nothing to do with the subject of the poem I am just making conversation. I had work today too and a fever the whole time but I am afraid to miss any days in my trial period (my own craziness). Tomorrow or actually today because this will come to you on the 22nd is my 16th anniversary!


10 thoughts on “Needle’s Eye

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 )

Facebook photo

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

Connecting to %s