“the darkest container.
where the light blinds,
i owe to none, no savior.
i’ve seen my death in glass.
black lines caress me so,
these scars undress me.
bold nothings and i cannot paint.
they whisper, the haunting waves
and i am washed and drained.
they drift like her dress in the rain
and drag and ache.
left insane these walls come bare
and each canvas, each one eats of
my soul, my last longing.
these bones of fingers.
my shortened breath,
staggered steps.”
—myself
