Something inside me is like a blade
sawing through a nerve,
jittering with the harshest of sounds:
a crash of instruments so horrendous
it pulls the teeth from your skull
and plucks the nails from your fingertips.
Why am I broken? Why is there nothing inside me?
I tried so hard to love, I loved you
the moment you danced for me
that September night, yet I'm fading away.
There's a plastic shell filled
with the thin liquid of my soul
and I'm seeping out through the cracks.
Soon there'll be little left of me,
only the slightest trickling of leftover fluid
which managed to elude the cruel, thieving hearts
who took me for their own. Where will I be
after your hands brush the surface of my cheeks
and try to fix the many fractures in my body?
I'm going to be left alone and afraid
in the dark at the end, regardless
of who looks at me with light in their eyes
tonight. All of them are the same
when the clouds fall around my mind
and I'm blinded by acid rain
burning the eyes out of my head.