Jazz

though i wander through the shadow of the valley of death,
i find myself whispering to the glowing eyes that peer out,
spilling words like ink staining my lips as i look back upon
former glories, back when i thought that nothing like this
could ever happen to me. something about memories of sunshine
makes the nights seem longer, darker, stranger.
helium has now been replaced by radon-- heavy, pulling
me away from the skies that used to be all mine,
away from the friends, the energy, the comedy. now i am just a tragedy.
though i wander through the shadow of the valley of death,
i no longer fear the things that live there. after all,
i am one of them now. they have taken me as their own,
and i am not afraid to embrace that which left my life in ruins.
why pick up the broken glass when it keeps others away?
if i’m just going to end up bleeding anyway?
when it acts as the spires of my castle of isolation,
weaponized self-destruction. would you like to hear a terrible story,
where the star falls in a flash across the sky?
it’s not worth making wishes on. neither am i.