It’s entertaining to watch stray bubbles escape my chapped lips
as I sink deeper and deeper; the pockets of life grow smaller and smaller.
I took a hatchet to my brain cells yesterday.
(Impulse)
it lay silent on the floor and I wanted to help it.
(Comfort)
so I grasped the wrapped handle and held up the blade.
(Strange)
then I met the soft steel face to face.
(Hello)
In this cracked-glass torture chamber even gas-masks
can’t save me from the poison in the air.
Submission Name: Untitled
