Your fingers leave traces in old white and young red
don’t go away again
and those glassy empty tears won’t drown you
the sun will dry them in seconds
I welcome back this unnamed feeling that’s so familiar to me
been here before
and your hand sleeps on my mouth, defending it against oxygen
please don’t scream they can’t hear you, can’t feel you
I’m hushed, my hands tied to the floor
these days people can’t stand silence anymore
you used to help me, spilling pain in fragments and images on paper
and this time you cannot escape, I’ve shut the door
words die in my mind before they’ve grown enough to be born
live fast, die young
their bodies lie on cold, silver beds
sleep little baby, sleep, I’ll sing you a lullaby
and their tombs will be opened with scalpels |
Submission Name: No novocaine at hand
