1st draft - needs some reworking
Tightrope
Flawless eyes fixed
Perfect poise attained
Beauty: isolate in time
Eyes on the jewels
Dazzled into desire
Hunters: eye their prey
No ground beneath
She won’t look down
A breath: now she moves
Graceful balance
Sprinkling gems
To earth: fall like dust
My mind is at sea
Diffused by the pill; but still
Crimson blood defiant
crimson threads unfurl
ruby ribbons catch and knot
spreading bloom of blood
Pain is my ink.
I inscribe with my tears
I etch with my blood.
Anger is my muse.
I imprint with my spit
I stamp with my bile.
Life is my palette.
Its hues tint my words
Its shapes give weight.
Intuition is my compass.
It directs my gaze.
Pointing inwards
Then out.
Move or Die
Black snake slithers around my neck
coiling tighter, constricting.
I swallow the pain.
Spike hammers pound
my bleeding heart
and echo in my brain.
I cannot move.
The weight is on me,
concrete, bearing down.
I am entombed
in a nightmare of panic.
Move or die
I pull you to me,
one leg encircling
hip to hip aligned
one arm surrounding
cheek on your chest inhaling
I want to climb inside
Your calm breath floods the pores
of my trembling skin.
Your warmth eases my throat,
as I force the rhythm
on my bruised, bleeding lungs.
You regulate me.
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