first draft
after a long day of
walking through hell,
i arrive to the nook
in the cracks in
which i hide.
i’ve come to know
the welcoming mat
as a liar.
i share my resting
place with ghosts of
a sweet child’s past.
my demons are
resurrected and emerge
from aching fingers and
restless eye lids.
they break me down;
consume me.
they are just like i.
i wait for the next day
for my venture back
through hell.
but all i can hear are
them telling me
to tighten the universe
that hangs around my
neck.
