My imagination reached over me
and extended the nights on the stand.
I watched him do it
In the darkness that ensued,
Two minor chords haunted
that house
low and languishing in rusting cages
I refused to echo their screams
and I didn't have a key
They sang happy birthday
when the time came,
and I hated them for it
at midnight I smothered one of them
and it died
the other; alone and still ringing in my ears
took back his praise and told
me it was my imagination
I didn't have the heart to tell him
we are the same person.
YOU ARE READING
ReAnimation: A Poetry Collection
PoetryThis is a collection of poems from my youth that were pretty edgy and poorly written. Here, I've updated, edited, and reinvented them so they are not just a pile of lost causes in my poetry archives.
