Mithridatization
With small increasing amounts of poison
In hopes of rendering oneself immune
Will I dissipate in the dark until every
trace of me fades, discarded and desolute
I am a sister of smoked glass
Whose blood is black and cracked with silver
My mother rises from ashes out of her clothes
She wishes me not to join her
Retreating back into this world's end
Effortlessly like a cart of dead flowers
After unhallowed eternities hiding in my skin
Only another could unmake and undress my spirit
I must give what I most desire
I become one with the opiated dream
A dead palm that can no longer wave its fingers
Some grow backwards backlit in an apothecary jar
Sleepwalking and somnambulistic
by the blackout of knives and dissection
Where are their screams now?
The black dog on my back
Induces the sensation of liquid filled lungs
Some do not return at all
Living with ghosts demands
utmost solitude and vigilance
