I'm sorry that everything I've got left to offer
is either burnt or broken. But something inside me
has rotted away and the taste is now boiling up
and out of my mouth. Dripping off my tongue is
nothing but sadness and anger. I know the flowers
that were once woven into my teeth have withered
and died. An ugly thing has me wrapped tightly
in its arms and when I look at my reflection, I can
no longer tell the difference between the two of us.
Please forgive the fact that I can only curse coherently now;
it seems to be the only thing I can stomach.