“my shadow’s
shedding skin.
i’ve been picking
scabs again.
i’m down
digging through
my old muscles,
looking for a clue.”

you’ve invented the impossible,
draining our lives
for the sake of this gorgeous science.
like a thief in the night,
you’ve taken away all i believed in
but what you don’t know is
that i can play that game, too.

beneath the callouses and bark,
i’ve enhanced myself to live in this new world;
it’s here within this steel carapace
that i’ve learned to live and grow.

so here i am, wordless in my lack of dreams,
alone and willing to fight —
for faith or for disbelief —
regardless of this coffin lying in wait
with open arms and a mind of its own,
waiting for the slip-up
that’ll bring me to its spindly embrace.

“you’re lying to yourself again,
suicidal imbecile.
think about it:
you put it on a faultline.

what’ll it take to get through to you, precious?”