Slow Bleed

October 2014

in the shadowy theatres of gifts exchanging hands,

i am uncertain of whether or not

i am fortunate to know that i

have not been learned in the macabre art

of deception, but rather

have founded my own enigma.

taking comfort in a handful of pills leaves


to be desired:

a real bed to call your own,

somewhere on the outskirts of iron-bound,

land-locked limitation,

but not yet past the haze of your own broken