I searched for the right words to express my feelings about going home.


glassy jet eyes and the stale
sting of permanence.
it stains these clothes and burns my eyes.
like a crisp, black feather;
tickles the back of my throat 
and i choke 
on this moratorium.

impassive, insipid, infinite;
little girl, it is time to take heed.
death watches
and smiles.

only blood can wipe out blood.