I want to burn down
this cradle of madness,
this den of demons
that whisper lullabies
of tempting oblivion,
coveting my dreams,
their precious meal.

But every day
I float down a river
of arsenic and ghosts,
my vision paralyzed
as I keep running
to the same hollow sea.

I want to smash
this mirror of snakes,
this crystal of horrors
in which no spark
can survive the cold,
snuffing out my hope,
my only weapon.

But every day
I ride a storm
of nails and screams,
swirling and shaking
until I fall upon
the same bleak shore.

My patience is bruised,
my resolve is an image
caught in a web
of blackened visions,
is this the life
I'm supposed to live?
-J