our talks, my infested heart

and the dilapidated menagerie

it sits away from the road.

it rots in the forest.

I take you by the hand, trembling,

and guide you with quiet steps

into the heart of the matter.

and one by one, I take these rusted chains

open doors exposed to the elements,

swing them on screaming hinges,

and take out each beast,

each grinning demon,

for you to examine.

their jaws, their teeth -

watch, they thirst for more bloodshed.

wary, you must be

when I take you to this place

else they may eat you up

as they have devoured my body, many times over.

with great care, I handle them.

make false promises, wheedle, and plead

until I can get them back into their cages.

and you, with a look of shock,

finally understand where the pain all radiates from;

at once, you understand my sleepless nights

and the dilapidated menagerie,

which sits away from the road,

makes a rustic home for my weary head.

I’ve known nothing else, no other song

except the rattle of these chains.
and my heart grows as dark, as thirsty as these monsters.

but I often find, late nights, that I am bound
unable to call out to any companion
or reach for your hand

and I shiver in my cage,
trapped like my own damn demons,

waiting for a dawn that may never come.