life without parole.

these promises are

run-on sentences to yourself

slinking through one ear

and out the other

the time you owe

constructed of inconsistencies

and regurgitated regret

how far you have come

in an effort to warrant

the quivering fabrications

that you refuse to own

slitting your own throat will

prove misfortune is hunting you down

armed and foaming at 

the mouth, clutching an 

already bloodied knife 

© 11.3.2014 heather brager