My Own Murder
Dark birds nest in my head
fed by errant thoughts
that buzz too close to their roost.
These dark birds fly from my sleeping body
to feel the night wind between ebony feathers
and to know freedom.
They return to me
with memories not my own
Of moonlit forests and fires that rage eternal
shredding black tapestries.
Of steaming flesh, opened and exposed to chill breezes
Of dancing and singing amidst far flung starscapes.
As I wake, I hear them
CAW! CAW! CAW!
as they starve in my head,
And that gives me pause to think, blearily
and they feed.
I am never alone.
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