they are fizzing on burning skin -
these tears wet as they slowly sink in
to sluice dry and stale flesh
to prove there’s something still within.
yes, there is still something there
with white face, black lips,
a corpse can once more sing!
it’s not affected -
the quizzing consort in my brain;
it’s not defective, this something going insane.
just a word used to denote
that which can’t be contained.
this is a missive
missile fired. Fire!
just a way of expressing the truth;
this, the beginning, the life redefined,
the first step in cutting the noose
so I can say something certain.
I. Am. Losing. My. Mind.