what becomes of the body?
as the soul drains
and the spirit trickles
fluid from the tip of an IV
they bloom by the day
lilac blotches
in a field of pale white skin
i kneel at her side,
materialize when summoned
no matter how badly my bones ache:
allegiance to an addict
countless cuts from broken glass
screaming match
and sirens’ haunting pass
lacerations without stitches are liabilities, too.
i do not recall the age i became an adult,
can’t recall childhood fantasies
so i ask --
what becomes of the mind?
bones can only take so many
beatings until they surrender
do you understand
that a man who feels small
will always be
no matter how many times
his knuckles bleed
i know the difference
between a flower and a bruise
although i am still learning
how to let an empty heart go
on giving too much of myself & never knowing where to draw the line