Never The Last
the windows rattle
with the sounds of the street
slithering my body under
the weight of this precious morning
shaking legs stand
marked by a foreign bite
seizing in the folds
bringing my condition to light
in the mirror it appears
as though the ink
has sunk through my skin
trickled into my blood stream
exposing some true purpose
I was escaping from
it’s a reality relapse
fully aware that I
cannot shake it this time
cannot change the shape
of black blood pumping
raised reliefs through my back
nor can I run
into another’s dream
when mine become tired
of being over-inspired
and lacking in motivation
oh, but I am lucky
lucky that I am here
oh, but I am lucky
lucky that I can see
the inbetweens and
graying things
that reside on the other side
lucky to embrace
such a perfectly impure face
and wear it as my own
the clarion call entices
relapsing into reality
as I have sometimes done before
what could be the harm
of doing it one more time?