A Billion Burning Dreams

I Left My Sanity In Venice I left my sanity in Venice. Screamed it into a pillow and I can remember the easing pain as it passed between my teeth. I vomited up the baby with the bathwater, all the glue that held my soul together. The best of me spit out and sucked up into the down. Featherlight. The final quill that broke this idiot’s heart. Too weak to care, too worse for wear, too drunk on drying tears to apologize. She cauterized the wounds that I let bear. A threadbare, skin-bound book — a diary of a man left scrawled with confessions

and Rorschachs. The ghost of me dressed in cotton sheets with holes cut out to see what I couldn’t see.

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