this week

i wake up
and a flash of sadness slides across the surface.

like kerosene

gasoline ribbons
snake slowly across my eyes.

their metallic shimmer
stings and cuts
with every blink.

i am in pain today.

remedies lie scattered
on the shelves and the floor.

i reach a hand inward
but find nothing there.

nothing but
an empty ribcage,
and the reminits of a vacant storm,
long since passed.

tattered feathers of crushed angels
and fibers of dust, hover in the light,
blown in from only God knows where.

cracked fence boards and
brittle wood held together
by gravity alone.

i can feel the nothingness in my fingers.
i can feel it.
inside me.

it is light.

like warm sand.

like youthful fingers stirring
summer air.

it is familiar and welcoming.

and it knows my name
all too well.

once again, i find myself fighting to remember,
this affliction
is not my home.

this is not my home.