wind me up
like a VHS
tape. tap
play, flay
my skin,
expose the meat
beneath
these rotten limbs.

stop.

trapped in a spider's web
of microfilament
ruptured inside plastic
cassette fractures,
fault-lines
from the wear
and tear
of constant
replay.

rewind.

a favorite scene
that seems to scream
of bliss
but has become
the site of such
anguish.

play.

if only
i could excise
these moments,
tape the frayed
fragments back
together
with scotch-tape.
delete the scene
and set the film
ablaze.