Gray shirt, gray day, gray life,
Artificial wax candles, haphazardly placed,
Blood splattered face slammed into the dust
Of the cake, cut irregularly,
With the dullest blade, bleeds its painful velvet,
Drips into a murky mess of cold lumps,
Cement in our mouths,
Fire-lit table, orange-red raging by our ears,
We hear anger and frustration in the flickers
Of the screaming wax candles.
Screaming happiness onto walls,
Meaningless in their hopeful meaning,
Achieving nothing with mere words
Regardless of volume.
The only indication of special-ness,
The blood bending in my heart and stomach,
Reminding me that I am nothing,
Yesterday, today, and tomorrow.
Hugs and kisses, XOX