Pull your teeth out,
threading your lips together with twine.

Reach into your bellybutton with a finger,
hook-shaped,
and remove your intestines,
like a serpent.

Run a hook into your nose,
removing your brain
as if mummifying you.

Carve a smile with a razor,
under each breast,
******* out the fat
and replacing it with silicone.

Pull your nails off,
leaving ****** beds,
krazy-gluing plastic
over the tips of the fingers.

Fingers into ****,
pulling out the ******.

Spoon the eyeballs out,
sew the sockets shut.

My doll, broken and battered,
now fixed in perfection.
A soft suicide relapse into plasticine porcelain -
you tremble when we ****.

I used to eat oatmeal.
I heard it was nutritious,
Good for the heart.

It tasted too bland.
I tried spicing it up,
Adding some sugar.

But oatmeal was boring.
I was too conservative,
Stuck in a routine.

I went out for breakfast.
I wanted something new,
To treat myself.

Today I ate cinnamon roll French toast.
It was hot, indulgent, rich,
More like a dessert.

But pastries for breakfast?
I can’t have that every day,
Just in moderation.

Well, why can’t I?
Couldn’t I find something to look forward to every morning?
Couldn’t I actually enjoy eating breakfast?

Is it responsible to indulge?
Is it exciting to be healthy?
Does it have to be one or the other?

I consulted my heart.
I couldn’t hear her advice,
My stomach was grumbling.

The smiles so big
but the feeling so small
The tears so little
but the feelings are so overwhelming
The laughs subtle, yet noticeable
as the sobs boom behind closed doors
The silence so needed
but the sounds never stop
The pause in time
will never happen
The ease will never come
The reminders will never fade
The hurt will always come back

it's funny how easily the tongue
forgets itself
loses language
struggles hard to roll around
too belabored
to find meaning in simplicity
too taut
to learn new speech.