THE BLEED

My scalp gives birth to nylon thread that I dip into toxic plaque, Collecting resin red ink and carefully dispensing it upon my parchment skin

Sometimes I lose consciousness and fall to one knee and black fills my screen, I scramble to find a flicker candle that sits precariously upon a splintered table

This darkened dream scenario haunts my home with funnel web spiders that land with a thump in a crumpled crying mass of venom

And in the grey shade of shudder corner where coats hang from finger hooks, their shadows spill into forbidden thoughts and I find myself trapped in a horror chapter

No amount of daylight, No trench of normality, No psychotherapy, No words of wisdom will ever erase what I've seen and heard.