(sixteen)

As my wooden
clock slapped
twelve.

The glorious
October, dawned
to the
hideous
(first) November
again.

I soaked my almost
red legs
in a woollen blanket.

With a bent
cell phone
in my trembling
hands,

I faintly
turn
my scarred head, (as I pretend to be sleeping)
left
and shove (though, really
my cell phone, weeping)
under my soft
silk pillow. (the scars on my head
deepening)

Curiously waiting,
for a distorting
singsong
to duel my
caged groans.

No luck,

I foot my feet,
in the oceans
of my drenched
pillow.
and
drown, in my
diseasing dreams(nightmares) (first November yet again)

(one to five)
I animate a life,
in a
morning so
knavish
and known.

My murmuring
mouth
hug my wrists,
and I force
my legs forth.

(six and seven)
I perched by
my younger
brother,
who clenched
a cute,
cyan,
card
in his tiny,
left hand.

His smooth, brown skin
turned blue
as the giant
Gorgon
shoved him
on the rough floor.

Hastily I sight
the nature's mirror
and sprint
to its reflections
(eight and nine)

I Lay in an angelic world
until
the Gorgon hunts me
with his alcoholic sword.

I lammed away
to the seashore.

(ten)

The crowded evening,
I awaited was
only 5 people wide.

(eleven to fifteen)

I lay down
on the
ocean floor
and dread
until first
fucking November
of an unknown world.