Singing in the Rain

the bells & the whistles...all i've got is my sleep, my enemy who knows only the worst parts of me, i'd like to strangle him, i squint my eyes and fire and dance as a flock of dead birds rain down upon me, uplifted from my roots i stab repeatedly at my dead foot (numb), fear of hypnosis, I pluck the feathers from my newly acquired wings to demonstrate that it's only a coverup. i reach down inside of myself to taste myself, but instead I break down and cry, watching each bird dart back into the night sky, i trace their departures, drawing a line, connecting the dots, carving a small cavity into my own torso—wrecked, defunct, ugly and beautiful by all means to me—the flesh is putrid. I cannot take it so i squint my eyes and fire again at the flock of birds above me. I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but the sun's in my heart and I'm ready for love.