atleast its fall

i made my own bed.

wtih sheets of ice

and pillows of staples.

so i can lay, and seep my entrails.

                   

dripping, flowing,

whether its my blood or the ice.

somethings melting here.

maybe its tonight.

       

i brace for my comatose.

i lay myself down.

for the drowning, i know so well.

to get ready for the show.

         

to sink beneath,

the surface and all its tension.

let myself go,

my screams: a vision.

       

after ill be welcomed

with my arms wide, and elbows shot.

bruises on my face,

lacerations on my jaw.

                

so ill never be forgotten.

in my rest ill stay,

in this bed of weeping.

the windows covered, itll never be day.