I try to **** at least
one part of myself
each and everyday.

Strangle the host
in between every breath or
suffocate in front of the mirror
under the weight of weary eyes,

Every skin I slither out of
gets me one step farther
from my heart
and adds one lock
to my mind.

The door is always shut
whether locked or not,
but I'm never sure
whether I'm locked in or out.

I want to savor the hemlock
as it invades me. I want to
savor it right out of
the birthing pool of my synapses.
But I am yearning to earn that prize.