Happiness and Me
Secluded phobias inch out through my stomach--
I watch as they pull themselves out of my large intestine
hand over fist through adrenaline drenched gapes.
Clenching the flaps of skin
I try to force them back together.
Determined to fix my faults I reach for the stapler
to keep the rest of my character-flawed seclusions inside.
I can't do it without the help you give.
Without you, fear rings tears from my eyes
like the dish towel after a night of beer pong;
Tears roll down the sides of my cheek splashing the
make-shift sutchers that keep my insecurities unknown.
The cheap staples my Ex bought weren't stainless steel--
saltwater drops mix with the metal, leaving a rusted
concoction of infection and void:
The upper hand that these harlot emotions of mind needed,
spreading the plague of reality over a relationship of youth.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment