February is a Curse

I dreamt of anger last night. Of my father and neglect. Of an overwhelming dysfunction. Of an unexpected death. My angel did not grip my shoulder and the sun burned my skin. I was gifted the gift of Gods. Speaking in riddles to hide my truth. I plead to my angel as my feet carry me to the shore. Use your light to outshine the shadow within my rib cage. The moon shelters the sun above me. My dreams play on a loop. I want to scream. Bodies lie flat against artificial grass. I want to run. Flags wrap around poles in stagnancy. This world is not mine. The angels do not call to me today. My father does not love me today. Death does not consume me today. Riddles upon riddles and they do not satisfy the ache atop my tongue. I pray for my teeth to shatter. For my bones to deliquesce. For my legs to be torn to pieces if only to feel the tear. Today is not mine. Today is etched in stone to exile my body. I dreamt of anger last night and it cursed my bloodshot eyes.

— ODH