sjsprWriting

the walls crawl with them

vines and coffins

making concrete break

and fingers prick

against poison thorns

and your blood beats

with it

pours from your open wound

with every tap, tap, tap

against your wrist

with every pull at the strings

in your marrow

there are bibles in them

burnt ember and pretty girls

with pretty dresses

boys with wings

flying too close to the sun

and the weight of the world

on hunched shoulders

knock knock against your bones

like doors

open up he calls

and you want to wrench

your jail cells open for him

he reminds you of the keys

dangling from your pocket

(you think you've forgotten

how you got here)

breathe, just breathe he says

he kisses your shoulder blade

with his teeth

the graves are walking, sweetheart