My Hollow,

 

For so long now, I’ve been living in nothing,

Almost trapped in time,

Lungs filled with particles of sand,

and the wetness of autumnal kisses.

 

I chased tomorrow and lived in stone,

Worshiped silver skies and sinking shipmen.

Played with nothing but coal and ashes.

 

I ripped my fleshy chest open,

Left my heart but packed dirt in,

Collected from my backyard,

two houses ago.

 

I watched my work scurry across my bedroom floor.

My life climbed up the walls –

I killed it with a dead-man’s broom, along with all the spiders.

 

I wish to be gold,

And I long to be woven –

Sewn into my fantasies.

 

Escape from me, thine reality,

And see what thou hast done to hurt me.

 

From yesterday I hunt.

From tomorrow I’m broken.

Found today in a basket,

with pain deeply frozen.

 

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