A blind moth trembles inside the lamp shade above my head,
its paper wings flap violently, desperate for an exit,
trapped in the illusion of light.
I am trapped in this cognitive skull
always looking through these two sockets for an alternative
I leave the light on because I haven’t finished looking
I can’t close my eyes because I haven’t finished looking
when my sadist past makes love to me, my feelings don’t belong to me
its breath hastens and with a final thrust it cups my breast and whispers
broken people are drawn to broken people my love.