and it is always me
caught in the darkest corner of my mind
wandering aimlessly destroying the structure that wasn’t
in the last invasion claiming the lives of more innocent thoughts-
i can put down the knife but i can’t hide it
when i am not looking, i will continue to cut and stab and kill
until this home is a crime scene;
there are only a few calm moments
a voice that sends me, the other me
running- running to a place i have yet to evict
to a place he calls home that has it all put together
but
when i am gone:
picket fence repainted
door mat dusted
time for books to be placed back on the shelf
photo albums rebound
dinner in the oven
albums placed next to the sega genesis
and
i
can
breathe
Saint's Muse 