This empty chest.
This hollow throbbing.
This empty shell. Will help you sleep.
And your name will come in time.
For now take a number.
This is a surrender skin
This is hanging on
Sing the high notes, touch his hand.
This is giving up
Faces on! Faces on!
We are pretty when we are faking.
I am such a liar when I smile.
Son comes home to take solace in his mirror
(the stains of God's loving embrace still ripe around his throat)
Only to find he's no longer human