Wicked Sam Lucero
here lies you, silent as the dust you’ve built
my favored disgrace, my bookmarked witch.
i hang YOU every morning in the mirror. i curl you back from your pacific grave by the rope i buried you in just to hear you scream again.
it’s your tired eyes that shimmer patiently in the placental dark that makes me hold my breath, makes me ooze ‘why?’
some silky word you cup over my mouth like a burglar’s glove;
“sometimes i glint like a knife under the moon.”
sometimes i want to die.
here lies me, the view from the prison behind my eyes. they have to saw a hole there someday. maybe that’s when i’ll go away.
there was the picture of dorian gray that he would hide from everyone. the monster gnawed by its own teeth, the truth.
i am the picture & somewhere is my…
View original post 14 more words