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The Bled Pass The Flask

Slowly we peel away the layers and the light seeps through the cracks. You whispered softly in my ear "the birth of morning's upon us, dear," the bandages

to keep you warm when you're alone. Shiver under blankets in the basement where our secrets sleep. You pour the liquor on the staircase, girl. Pass the flask

You plug me in and turn me on. Turn on me. I am your device of manufactured hope. You plug me in and turn me into wires and blood. I am your trophy

You are the teeth and the lungs. Biting back and breathing in. Cracked like a frozen moon. The heat lampseeps into the pores. This is your interrogation

Waiting for the sun to set my wings ablaze. The show must go on. The funeral needs star. Tonight I have become the gossip and the choir. The useless