Your Diagnosis Means Nothing To Me

I am cold
Amber eyes above
Frosted breath
Waiting like decay
For a movement
Amongst the willows
The surge of muscle fiber
And reflex
A taste of warm copper
Laced triumph

I am hot tar
Boiling beneath
Hollow grins
And trigger fingers
Tracing red paint
Around black holes

I am the asbestos fiber
Clogging lungs
With inescapable sentencing

I am a welcome
And uninvited guest
In this house
Listening
For a familiar voice
To release some version
Back into the wild