Help

Phantoms and Thieves

Black wings unfold from

shoulder blades

thin and transparent

unsure if it will be enough

to carry a 120-pound body

to the heaven I am not certain

is up there.

I am more focused on

reflections in windows

watching mile markers

tick down the time

left until sanity leaves on vacation.

Hands warm skin under violet sunsets

guitar strumming in the background

of an artist, the type you only see live

Once.

It isn’t a voice

a picture

a song.

It is being exhausted

Fighting with yourself

that

Finally

you ask for

you scream

you whisper

Help, please.

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