the spiral

some crevices in my heart

have never seen light

a small part of me believes

something or someone

can help the light reach them.

 

when i find that the dark places

will remain dark

there is a newborn grief

a humiliation of my naivete

and hope in magic.

 

at the oblivion towards

my extended hand

i retreat like a reflex of shame

and close myself

from the world.

 

in this emptiness

i eat myself alive

and stay starving

for there was never any food

to begin with.

 

in this hunger

i hate myself

and i push away

the light

from touching any part of me.

 

it becomes a habit

of security and maybe

some despair

to lock myself in torture

that only i know.