I placed a piece of broken glass

on your ******, scabbed tongue

and made you swallow it.

broken pieces
shattered limbs
crushed glass heart
                                                                  frayed with cracks
                                                              and misunderstandings
                                                                  and the empty space
                                                             between my hollow ribs.

my words are a way to scrape my insides
and bleach them clean
without the foul odors.

so many thoughts
ricocheting off the sides of
my hard white skill

I let them out
not by speaking
(words stumble awkwardly and
all at once)

but by
w r i t i n g
(words finally flow and make sense)

the empty static
on the old boxy television
show the sorrow
of a million lost souls.

we keep them in cardboard boxes
old and frayed
with holes poked in the sides
so the gut wrenching wisps of
a flashback
can sneak out
and attack us
in the middle of the night

someone  c u t
off my crisp white wings
with a pair of
broken
rust covered
scissors

they ignored my desperate  p l e a s
and cries for help
and shouts of
"you are destined for hell!"

they left me  b l o o d y
with stinging tears dripping from swollen corneas
and scratch marks littering my and
and sunsets blooming on my thighs

I am
n o t h i n g
but the body
s t u m p s
on my back