Alive

I can feel my blood, Gushing through my veins, I have two beating hearts, One to lose and one that pounds, At the door of my skin, A caged vulture in the jungle of my ribs, For it wants to be lost, With a jar of ashes addressed to the ones I love. I can feel its emulsion in my blood, A pellet of germanium in an abyss of red,The burst of colour in my wrist reminds me of death, And how the roles reverse in circumstance, A blush of pink on my eyelid, A blush of pink on the periphery of my jaw, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive Guess I’ll play a song, I’ve heard before. But it beckons me so, The thin films of glass against my wrist, Cold fingers running over jagged edges, And I sip clean, every blunder I make, Guess I’ll kiss my wrists pale again, I see the crevices of my mind unfold, I can see a face, a body to hold, I choke on blunders, I choke alone. My wardrobe has skeletons with sardonic smiles, There’s crosses on the glass beneath my feet, There’s crosses in my throat, I’m running down the nape of my bones, And like the phoenix once arose, I’ll hear my voice at the bells when the church door swings, My consciousness is an ocean, my awarness is a wave, I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive