my jawbone snaps
the fault line drawn
by a toddler with a crayon.
the halves drift through
the veins of my face
and I am disfigured.
a picasso
in technicolor,
I am not used to this much laughter
so my bones squirm and wriggle
pleading me to stop
but my lungs disagree
and my body rattles in its
confused shell
I can't stop
when it feels so good
but so palpably painful.