it’s surprising how much blood can fill a silent room. the gaps

between conversations hollow into ocean trenches and now i’m

seeing red. pockmarked skin under twisted bed sheets, i’m raging.

this cerebrum thrashing like stormwater caught in a bucket, all angry

and biting. it can send electrical signals to say the most hurtful

things. you call my name a mantra and all i hear is “you are making

me miserable.” my hands are blazing like a byzantine mountain

beacon system signalling the coming storm. calling moths to me like

my lieutenants to turn your tapestry of life into a threadbare

monolith. erecting some monument in the aftermath to

commemorate a war nobody will want to remember. in the

apocalypse you chose to break my heart in your back garden. you

blame your ghosts and i call it the consequences of your actions.

your brother’s in the police station and i make your bad day all about

me.