I never thought
I would pine for the way
a heart...

could implode.

The falling together
The ****** laceration and
for the first time in my life
I realize that I'm
twitching from lack of sleep.

My pillow
shudders loud.

Remembering the note
I hold with intent
blaming myself for getting lost
inside this Polaroid.

Van Gogh furnished a eulogy
for the rant in the wake of
this scar that implants itself in the
palm of...

breathing.

Our ribcage could use a
little bloodshed.

We scream in flooding bloom.