Paper Prison

I think somewhereI lost myself on a sheet of

trapped, between the faint
blue lines
held straight by the pinkish red
along the side

sometimes, the ink
dries and scratches the paper
leaving scars
on the thin membrane
of my prison

I fly to the very edge
thinking myself free

but I just find myself again
on the reverse

a new torment unleashed
on the mind
a new battlefield
covered in slaughtered words

I fight the expanse
of white
in hopes of finding my end
on this paper


Empty Bottles

The bottle was nearly empty
just like everything else
nothing compared to the feeling
of not feeling
and all that mattered was
the mind numbing liqueur
and even that was almost gone

gone like that perfect summer
and her perfect life
all that was left was an empty apartment
and a hand-me-down guitar

a guitar that had been played by his father
in some band
they had some song that got played on the radio
long enough for them to feel immortal

he didn’t inherit his father’s immortality
but he did get his guitar
he used to play it and sing some song
nobody knew

then everybody knew he was gone
all she was left with was an empty apartment
and an empty promise
and a guitar

the guitar sat immortal
in the corner
and as she drained the last drop from the bottle
she walked across the room
and next to his guitar
she set the empty bottle down
along with the others