Merciel

My heart once beat erratic rhythms, bleats
against the white-washed walls–social attire.
One night it broke apart–the sheep replaced
it with a clock they set to snooze and snooze
without a beep, and played their games without
me. Sprockets rusted into dust, rain short-
ed every wire. In only four years,
the contraption expired, so I replaced
it with a chest that holds fermented dreams
and memories. I decorate them with
some glitter stolen from the muses I
listen to religiously, then perform
the plays–they validate my days inside
this cave. I polish edges not to poke
and sand the faces of emotions they
invoke. If friends inquire my condition,
I’ll answer with scraps cut into portraits;
if they offer my name in petitions,
I’ll stretch their prayers by flaunting scars I bear;
if they ask favors from me, I’ll promise
them lies before I lock the door on them.
Behold! My reincarnation–reversion!