Today my humanity was shaken, I felt that
as the format of self harm peeled my eyelashes off
One at the time, like petals to a child's meddlesome hands
both fiend and keen, my temple shook twice still
In queer query queued at my extended palms in balm
tribute meant for the faithful, those listening and in need
That self-harm can be different for those that help without heed
no longer understating purpose, lunacy engulfing zombies asleep
My heart aches heavy still, pulsing for mere instinct and yet
We cannot discard this debt of life, nurturing its gift and
the wishing well is owned a burden that I rather forget.
If I sound dishonest it might be the signal of a tombstone
a lodestone too generates conflict, for the hands that choke
are my working tools, the very source of sustenance and pleasure
serpents that ever nifty too fall apart and ought to become necrotic
least the whole organism becomes ridden with disease sought by conflict
now it is not the time to listen to own self least it be a trap, bind your time
smitten by kinder words shallower on repeat, solace in tenuous grounds is akin
to coming to accept bad songs as a form of self-medication
Past the shifted resentment, the hollow sadness that floats
I ticked forward feeling a resemblance of saudade, I felt that.
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