Empty rooms & disclosed hearts hung on hooks to dry. Bleeding across the grain of creaky oak floors staining bare feet & fragile hands. Swallowing down the wretched scent of death, his life waiting in the tip of a needle & a irrevocable high. Piercing skin our momma bore him with, crumpling turning white, sunken dying oceans are all that is left of his putrid eyes. I can still remember wishing mine were turquoise blue heaven instead of emerald lies. Memories swirl my head, my own high, never letting go of the vision of us as children. Left with the pieces of a life that no longer sings my name but screams for each breath through heaving nightmares. Veins so translucent, one could watch the coiled blood flow through his flesh forcing life one step closer to the edge. Fighting urges not to suffocate him with my bare hands for…