the springs beneath bleed
clotting like cream
carrying the uncertainty
of whether they’ll be held up
or not
just like me
would it be better to die silently
than to suffice the blame you spit at me.
lost grip on that independence
i spent so long looking for
wish i could take bites out of these crystals
let them cut my insides with the intent of growth
long hauls aren’t my forte
but if i treat them like the sisters that surround me
then perhaps my hunger will cease
and my thirst for future can begin.
it’s been rough
pinball machine heart had me flying across the walls of this boxed up existence
no great escape just the broken clock in the heart of the house
counting down until the dust settles upon my rigid frame.