Spilt ink, broken nibs,
Cramped papers, crinkled lids,
Trickling blood, fractured ribs,
Lifeless gazes peering, sneering at my ruins.

Nicotine nails, gloom sought in my eyes,
Wavering fingertips, nowhere to point,
A frowned face, a drowned mind,
Freshly cut lines down my spine.

Cuts heal cuts, so I wound myself again
For the leftover light to flee with my pain;
My lover seals the slit with a kiss,
For he is selfish.

He is deprived of light in this conflict,
So he suckles what's left of mine.

I allow him.

He dies.
My cuts bleed dark.
He ascends.
I lurk in the shadows behind.

Now I find no humans with light
To even navigate my plight;
I find no ashtray to stub out my cigar.
All I find is paralysis and corpses like tar.

- mathi
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