thorned -
once a month,
i feel my soul
spill out of me;
raw, slick,
pressure building
right in between
my eyes, my vision
spotting
red.
tears leak
down my cheeks,
doing nothing to ease the
pain that fingers
the inside of
me, vines of
thorns growing
up into my core.
when i type on a
keyboard, i always dream that
i’m making my own music;
the black and white on the
page in front of me
matches the black and white
from the piano keys i
imagine i’m pressing.