I am not in my right mind

by shira

You listened to my fingers
And said they’d turn the pages
Of a leather-bound book
I’d write while lying in a grave

Of a man I wished I’d known
Before his brain was served to ghosts
On a wooden platter bathed
In smoke and hailed for its flame

When I sing and when I kneel
Know that I’m only shitting truth
Out of my gums
I’d rhyme with lungs here
If I meant I were still breathing

I am a light without a match
Sparked by a dry eye socket
Drenched with pins and needles
From every night till this one