Caucasian Powder

Straight lines and unopened doors,
Someone pass me the key.
Let’s assure ourselves
With verbal skills,
As we crawl into the dark..
Some habits just leave a scar.
I’ve peeled off my eyes,
As my pupils dilate,
Before the mirror blinds me.
The cracks under my skin,
Emerge and my skin tone is
A withered corpse.
Minutes blister into hours,
My heart has become a clot.
In the end I became,
A moral panic.
My mother’s weight,
1 gram.