Chronic
By: Hayden Isaiah Fuentabella
In black ribboned with pearls there is shame
On my fingers lay graphite stains
Crumpled paper scratches my skin
Wrap my eyes in cellophane
In a dark corner while the world refracts rays
Neon lights through the window pane
Built on sand, termites nibble me whole
4x4 rubic’s cube unsolvable
Teaspoon scraped the crumbs in my skull
Between the brittle ceiling and wall unstable
Memories shoved under the table
Rewritten in someone else’s cradle
With a single touch my skin falls off
Lidless eyes on concrete walls
The blanket of bones envelopes me
Keep these lips close to nightmare fury
I dash through the avenue in a haze
Hidden voices changed our choices
Sketching on the hollow canvas
The echoes in my hippocampus
Wounds repeat when pain is absent
Slithered back into the holy garden
The washing machine woman calls my name
And Mr. Sandman falls between chipped nails
Inside and out the black coat shines
Door latch free, shackles still tight
Witches are burned in ancient times
Yet the candle’s flame burn bright