Sensation gripped the fingers. I am anemia. Secluded; holding tighter to the
chair.
Bound and gagged, your hips moved closer to the floor as I took over. I fill
your lungs with this last breath as my gift.
I won’t ever let go; to the paper wrapped around your fingertips.
Burning it down to the filter. Arms shaking in celebration of the addiction.
The secrets she never told; with the images she holds in her seemingly vacant
head; ever circling around the smoke filled air. It brought us closer together.
I don’t ever want to miss you. I am floating so elusive as I ignite with your
drug.
They never seem to disappear. Even in these last moments; we take another
breath to calm the nerves.
For the love of depression. For the love of the rain that hits the window. Rain.
Snow. Rain. Perfect. Done. Are you satisfied with your love?
In the world that shoves beauty down our throats. I’ve never even seen your
face; no; not quite like this; but you call to me like a widow in lust and sinking
into dust.
Bring them all back to me. The disease is refilled. Prescribing something
stronger to separate her from this world.

Staggering between the walls; wearing your face like a gift from the sun that
was long gone. I don’t ever want to miss you as I return to nothing.
I’ll spread through your nervous system like a virus uncontrolled and violent.
Seething puddles of colors dripping from your eyes with the irises blacked
out. I could tell that you weren’t the same anymore as I made my move to
take you over completely.
Taking each one of your limbs one by one, numbing the primitive desire.
In a glimpse, the butterflies fluttered, transforming into your darkest night
mare as they sparked your blindness. I am anemia. I am the fear that keeps
you alive. I am the reaping with confusion in shaking hands, I think that
I’m dying. Filling the room with prodigal discern. Indistinguishable from the
anatomy that once existed here; the naked shell of an organic parasite. I am
the dust you pierced into your trachea.
Love me; as fowl as the other world. I will become all that you know.
A child born without a purpose. Walking into the room seeing her idol hang
ing from his own mortality. Giving in, and never breathing unless it was truly
worth it. She walked between the walls of the house; speaking of her mis
fortune. A masochistic scene of rape and torture took over the house framed
with razor wire and carrion. A silhouette of slithering insects that crawl from
out of the woodwork to drag her back to reality in her drug induced coma. A
celebration of fear with the edges tearing through every surface that comes
in contact. The figure doesn’t exist. The picture was never finished. The song
played on as her eyes turned from blue to white. Sickness in every hole. The
worms crawled through her skin as she whored herself off. With sores as
open as her heart, she begged for them to make it stop. With the image of
her dead father’s face still in her head, she faded; soaked in her favorite color,
melting into the cracks of the floor. Spinning and colliding in a ballet of un
fortunate circumstances. She will never see the morning sun ever again. We
will all become the dead.

Derek Green
2013