blood jet.

And here I am.
Sitting, and here I am.
The day she was born exactly too long ago.
Someone so perfectly haunted
hollow eyes and platinum red brown hair.
Fingers here on these keys,
slightly louder and perpetually clanking
wonderful beautiful words.
A bittersweet writings of blood
let and let and there is not stopping it.
Loud accordian spoon harmonica notes
breaking something of this impossible silence
Dead in this place but so discouragingly alive.
The air in my lungs so displaced.
So belonging to the particles on the outside
To just let them go, be gone and disperse
So afraid of what will be and what is
Lies and empty pill bottles orange and white.
A locked box picked clean as fish bones.
There is no stopping it no stopping it