For The Bones I Call Home

IV

I've been waiting for my bones to break
For the crippling brittle yellow milk toothpicks
To slide upwards and inward
For the skin to slide off my faded walls
Of cellulite
Until the only way to find me is to
Follow the roadwork of my bursting
Spider veins and webbed hours of lost sleep
Follow the way my chest rises and falls
With the sinking realization that tonight
Will be another night I will not remember in the morning

I want to tell you it's okay
I killed the monsters and
it didn't even hurt when they fought back
The pulling and pushing and pulsing of
Red bloodied hearts in a sticky syrup of memories
Was only a dream
I killed the thing
But the thing killed me

And all the hero ever wants
Is for the thing that makes me "me"
To disappear
Make my cheekbones beautiful
Make my ribcage smaller
Break me and rearrange me
Into something worth wanting
I'm sorry
I cannot write
I cannot sleep
I cannot be
As I used to be
Because I killed the thing
But the thing killed me

/Words by: Me
/Art by: Loui Jover
I wrote this in five minutes and I can delete it in two.