A Transition

Something stirs beneath the surface of me
A remainder, forgotten by the division of the hands of here and there
Then and now
 
I become a corpse in the dawn
A rising sun crawls roseate across my ribs
Snapped and bloodied, reaching for the heavens
Like hands whose nails hope to breach the mirror’s surface
I gently brush your hair away from your eyes
Dead eyes, robbed of the hope held by a once blue iris
Now white and opaque
Like pearls , vibrating from the song of flies
 
I remember
I remember the quiet, of all rooms
The passage turned to an atrium of faded voices
Echoes shrieking down the halls of your
Agoraphobic  nightmare
And here, my cup would overflow
And stain the cloth beneath it black
 
To knot my bulging veins around the neck of this world
To adorn the skin of my skin with ten thousand thorns
A memory of melanomas and myotoxins
To encrust the fissures in my palsied, dying mind
To hold the nothing, and let sorrow give it mass
 
I now become the suffering I’m waiting to surpass.