Text

candle
not too
bright
over the edge
of the
well
light flickering
off the
stone walls
not reaching
the edges
of the moist
dark below

after a while
you learn the
fine points
of dissection
take blade in
hand
carefully (or not)
draw a red line
right down
the arm
watch the blood
spill like wine
on the carpet below
you never really
liked red wine
you usually
prefer dry white

strip off your
striped stockings
and wait

the mud squelches
between your small
toes
white face turned
up towards the circle
of light above
the walls tower
about you
great stone
tentatively touch
your fingers to the
wall and feel them
crumble

you've fallen down
this well before
blue and white
dress billowing
about you
pretty girl with
porcelain skin
a doll carelessly
thrown over the
edge

there are caskets
in this well
small black ones
you can hear them
rustling
or maybe that's
the red eyed
rats waiting for
you
waiting for-

sit naked
in the tub and
watch the water
turn red
pink bubbles
don't leave
a note
the numbness
eating at
your brain like
maggots

this is not
real
you are not
real
i am the voice
inside of your
head that narrates
your life in
a toneless hum
like a machine

i am not real