House of Mirrors

Stop

I said stop it

or maybe I said start it

It’s hard to hear over the volcanos

Erupt

lava pouring out of my gritted teeth

jaw clenching over the word “speak”

the storm finally plays it’s turn in our annual game of chess

but my pawns have formed a union

wavering hands of my economy rotting rapidly racing to reach the quarterly goals

Restricted

black and white boxes only let me move in L’s

lines in my limp palms where gold coins fall through

I’ll tell my kids

“This is what a piggy bank looks like”

It seems my youngest has decided to go vegan so the pork of my parenting is left in the field to walk in circles

Gradual decay

My tombstone reads

“A waste of a good grave”

someone opened a bag of chips at my funeral

the crinkling sound swarmed into my open cassette and closed the door

even the dead can be driven insane

driven might not be the right word

I think I took a plane

The baby sat right next to me

I couldn’t tell you which one of us was crying the whole way

It’s hard to hear over the creeping corners of my subconscious

Held hostage by my own eye lids

a trap I knowingly cuddle into each night

a trap I clean my bones for

strip naked for

just to be stripped naked

expose myself to myself

I wish I didn’t have so many bones in my closet

and dirty laundry underneath my bed

because maybe then the monster wouldn’t have to sleep right next to me

Circus ticket

Amit one

house of mirrors in my head