xviii. heterochromia iridum

and it’s a two-toned type of sadness,
you see,
when the right side of me
is a calm translucency, the edges
of my attenuated skin can be hung in
positive quadratics, threaded through
by lines of ink across the
back of my palm. months assure that
the red has lost itself
amidst stratums of clear water.
the only glimpse of the blood
under the bridges hangs by
the rattling metal box by my

(and look, if you look close enough
it’s really not far from you)

and it’s a two-toned type of sadness,
you see,
because sheltered from the light, away from
the cleanliness of (whose?) cloudless mind
there is a fascia of green
underneath the tiny, filthy feet of
my larynx, and listen,
do you hear it lying
face-up to the sky?

i look up,
i look up to find blue skin
along the edges of my eyes.

when they say there are two sides to every story,
i never knew they meant that
the protagonist and antagonist
were the same person

i never realised that snow white
poisoned herself to escape
the little people in her mind
i never once thought that when
sleeping beauty refused to wake up
even for a hundred years
the spindle to her finger
was a deliberate accident
her lonely mind was forced to make
and maybe
maybe there was a reason rapunzel
chose to lock herself
in the highest tower she could find,
so when she fell,
her hair wouldn’t have been the only thing
weighing her down.

recently i’ve been going to sleep
with the nagging weight
of cardinal need vs. cerulean calmness;
the overwhelming possibility
of red washing over my newly formed
blue-green layers
keeps me up at 3 in the morning
and when the minute hand cuts
3.17am every night the only thing
my mind is screaming
is that
“this house supports euthanasia”
over and over again:

and yet
and yet
above the darkness
comes a floating limb of
my lungs mumbling a hopeful
plea for oxygen,
right before i am pulled down underwater.

and in the mornings i whisper,
“it’s a two-toned type of sadness, you see –”
the kind you never really want to leave behind.


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