Embalming Auctions

you'll see me there, but it's someone else. a goblin imitating the mirror. a stranger trying on my skin. ignoring the wrinkles. excited by the darkness. searching for alone in a hurricane of faces. desperately remembering the quiet edge as the loud one approaches.

you'll see the tar. the dense portal of silence that sits between us. i've been searching for the map. all my life. still haven't found it. voices like blank paper. taunting me to read what was never there. i try to remember the world i knew before. the inside. all jelly and vinegar. thick and sharp stabs to the senses. and their virulent amnesia.

we'll trace the lines separately. wondering how they could ever meet. people. distant thunder. pouring rain. a preposterous flood for me to drown in. the distant echo of the margins. the hollow poetry of my disease. scratching on the glass. digging in the fire. content to burn.

you'll meet the broken doll and wonder how she walks. you'll talk to the empty chair and marvel at the shadow it casts.

simple stitches threading through the eye of time. hollow numbers. and their servant skin.  choosing each madness with open fists. the trail softens. the blood dries. this body is the coffin. time is the grave.