I miss the broken glass
opening my anxious flesh;
the bite and burn of the blade.
A constant, certain fear evolving …
the marriage of *** and darkness.

I peel away
the withered.
pink and moist
beneath glowing eyes.
The night settles.

God cannot speak
to me any longer.
I am not afraid now,
(but I tremble in the grave.)
I cannot ask for
what I will destroy.

I beg you to erase my life
because I can’t seem to
suffer enough
or love a little.