My skull is a long-lost ship adrift in its own boiling darkness.
It smears my thoughts with soot, hiding blades in deep waters.
The daggers only leave scarlet scars if I pull them out weeping.
Searing misdeeds call for my neck whenever I try sleeping.
It has been months since I have seen shore or even a beacon.
The hope overflows each morning, but every night I get weaker.
My anthracite tears drip slow like honey, they burn with rage.
My head is a snarling beast, captured and locked in a gilded cage.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 