Winter to my summer. Sulphur die oxide

I bit the nail
Ever so lightly.
Stared at the
Chocolate wrapper
I saved.
You see
I like souvenirs.
Those old
Tattered paper bills
And receipts.
What a recipe!
Of a disastrous
Spectacle.
The one drive
Is empty now.

I traced
The elbow
And wrist.
Just checking
For the burns
of your touch,
Those scars.
An Insane urge
To peel the flesh.
But there it is.
I wracked
The brain.
Oh there you are,
That heap
Of rubble.

I dumped it
There.
It rots
It lingers
But it’s there.
The stench
Of a presence.
Putrid reminder
Of the lies
And abuse.
A broken instrument
Crushed beneath Thy feet
Fear and anxiety
And love.

Always, love.
And then
The damned damp.
The achingly
Familiar Lady Lazarus.
Is it me?
It it this?
Or the attempts?
Waning and waxing.
New moon to full.
Saturnian
To my moon.
The numbers
Speak to you.
Winter to my summer.

Those comparisons
Sulphur die oxide.
The constant
Ebb and flow.
The subtle manipulation.
I bit that nail
Now drawing blood.
Pinched that elbow
Leaving a mark
On the scar.
This pain
Doesn’t shadow
That torment.
On go the trials.
Failure after failure.

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