every moment special

Every moment special
A translucent soap bubble
Bathed in the circus colors
Of small l.e.d.s
Floating into a warm sober euphoria

A spider crawls across my white ceiling
He speeds past the seam
Running from his webbed home
Stops for a breath
Or, to reconsider

Distracted by the clink of melting ice
Water grows in the glass next to the bed
My dark milieu in the chill of home
Sinking feeling isn't just a feeling
I've already melted

Freeing thoughts of cessation gnaw at bones
Serrated edges back and forth
Leaving dust and marrow
Blood and skin to stain white bed sheets
This is not the death of me

But my disappearance from existence
No end from no beginning
An infinite circle of me without blue windows
Scurrying across a white ceiling
And never looking back, maybe

Suffocating in wrapped plastic
The bubble of my own making
Pin pricks of red and orange
And blue and green feed me
Into unconsciousness

The darkness of left turns and nice words
Pulling my lungs tighter into submission
Every day a fight with the ghosts
And monsters that dance on my grave
And I dance with them

Swinging from rafters
A hairless monkey with rope for a neck
I watch me creak the splitting wood
In a rhythmic rotation
Back and forth

Intoxicated by uppers and downers
Brought on by whatever you say
Each letter carefully placed
And taken away as I writhe
With the red bars staring from across the room

Heather's eschatology
Written centuries ago on her pasted skin
By the people who knew her best
In fine red now faded to brown
"Her suffering is her reward"

Yet every moment special
The bubble and the monkey
The ice and the spider that get my attention
Without vision
I am the sallow demon that stares at me when I close my eyes