Catch-22

Blood

faint taste of metal and pain on the tip of my tongue.

It is real.

It runs thick and clear.

It knows its way. 

It carries the branches of a life I did not choose - your life. 

(Why did you bring me here?) 

You old, glum thing covered in manuscripts 

and dead languages that no one speaks.

There is nothing behind -

a troubled soul, an empty mind.

I fear your world

dead and dry

concentrates inside me.

You -

the fractured mirror in which my face pulses like hearts.

My face, your face

it is a mere reflection

a change of perspective.

(Why did you bring me here?)

There is nothing between us. 

I have to kill the papery feeling inside.

I know it is you, fluttering.

But the ancient bond is indestructible and fixed.

I cannot be free.

Your sour breath clings to me

and the blood runs deep, deep - it is the same.

To kill you, I have to kill me.