i fear that you contain me within a cardboard box
where i crouch, smudged-faced, with a musty parcel of wood
which is pandoras'.
locked inside, i pried it open
and out came every fateful fatal pause
and unuttered thought
and every unbreathed breath and the black ink spilled.
clouded grey my stark white hands, and the world it roared
but it was a beautiful sound.
but with the rose colored bloodstains in checkerboard patterns
and lovethirsty hearts in a coy, cloying state
there came a horrible, wonderful, terrible beauty
with melancholy opera and the crushing force that is
an indomitably vulnerable spirit.
pushing aside the soggy paper flaps, the cardboard captors,
i stepped willingly into the world in which i belonged.
daisies poke smiling heads from cracks
in grimy asphalt, presenting sunshine to the dark
inside of a silent shut eyelid as i should.
where my soul would be broken,
and it was beautiful.
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