take a sip of my blood,
and feel my tears on your tongue.
if i die, cut my heart out and
translate it like the rosetta stone.
decipher the scriptures on my bones.
take me to where you feel most calm,
and extend your spine like an arm,
pick me up from where i lay,
breathe me for one more day.
it is not the task but the expectation
that breeds my faulty hesitation.
and god only knows where i am,
forgotten in a lonely land.
a pen in my hands is as dangerous
as a gun in yours, scratching initials
into hotel floors.
splinters under my fingernails
remind me of all the times i failed.
and if my voice is stolen,
lay me to rest, the way i’ve chosen.