“ In the darkness and the snow, the street is emptyand it is just the night, the ice and me. ”
It’s voyeuristic the way you searchfor answers in these cries for help,and how you see Death’s fingersbut always think they’re paintbrushes.
~ Miriam Joy
I felt happier yesterday. I do not feel happy today – I feelabandoned and godless and brokenin a church built for the damnedwith artificial light through stained glassand warped wooden doors.
I am still trying and trying to exorcise youbut you cling to me like mud or bloodstains,like a battlefield fought in my imaginationevery day that I raise my pen against the swordyou used to slice my heart into small, bitter pieces.
When I wake from my nightmaresI’m more afraid of the breath in my lungs than whatever might be chasing me.
