esouh

you torment me

in this house of stone

where the ceiling turns

into blades

and the hinges on the door

slice my shins.

i fucking hate you,

so i grovel by your leather smoked shoes

to see my reflection

in the snarling crocodile's mouth.

the sight burns me more

than the purgatorial clutch

of your arms,

and i bite my lip

to taste the porky flesh

of this degraded denouement.

if this hollowness

eclipses

into rage,

will i love my own bones?

i cascade down the staircase

and the mahogany railing grates

my hand

so the bone pokes out.

i rip it apart and

swallow the splinters;

it tears up every inch

of my esophagus

on the way down.

im running

down

ㅤ‎‎‎‎down

ㅤㅤdown —

out of this mansion of morbidity—

yet your skeletal fingers haunt

my backside until i turn back because i'd never truly leave you.

when i look next to me,

there is no you.

i face the ceiling

and my reflection wails into life

so it's pale lips can kiss

the stained glass chandelier.

my hands are holding

your leather shoes;

i splinter my mind when they fit my feet tonight, father.