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Words collide like a cannonball in this head, a mesh of neural cells and cortex – words said and unsaid from every human mouth in the last 10 years. Sounds play broken anthems on my sticky heartstrings, the ones that need mending – sounds of dusty promises and banshee screams the color of hatred and paranoia. Pictures of a million shiny tips that kissed this petrified skin flash and I’ll tell them this is the price to pay for the voices in this head, this hideously empty head, a mess of neural cells and cortex. You shut the light, lit another match of questions and lay fire to the pile that is me – my limbs, my lungs, my foolishly wasted spine. A child of Death knocks on my door. This time, I think I will not turn it away. This time, I think I will let it in for a cup of tea.