trace the scars

This place is so familiar
I think I died here before
Is that my clotted viscera?
wild flailings sprayed on the walls?
are those my prints?
blood and spit dried on the floor?
What a desperate scene
I remember how it played out
how my hope was strangled
my trust was stabbed
my arms were bound
and then the real torture began
This is no place to die
I refuse to let it happen
This is a momentary discomfort
a necessary step in the wrong direction
I know why
I keep coming back
It is a fruitless and sadistic experience
Everything I have has been drained
every imagination has been assaulted
I wrote you letters
asking for help
asking for reinforcements and evacuation plans
but I never heard back

When I look in the mirror
my eyes are kicking and screaming
When I look at my hands
I like to trace the scars
and wonder what they've taught me
This is my last letter to you
but you won't know
I will hide it like shame
and when I sleep
I will imagine a distant reality
where a breath is savored
and not labored
where our eyes meet
and nothing is misunderstood
where the rain falls on time
where the power in our fists
isn't cruel, isn't spiteful
and the cold can't penetrate our souls
The perverseness here
I cannot accept
I will wait
for another place, another time
to come alive.