when they cut me open
with their mouth masks and sleepless eyes
what will they find?
will they find my heart?
is it black as coal with jagged cracks?
will they see my liver?
shot from too many nights alone with a bottle
will they pull me apart limb from limb?
trying to find the problem
where it went wrong
where innocence turned malevolent
where pens and paper became razors and skin
will they count my scars?
like tallies on walls of state hospitals
empty cells and empty minds
will they close my eyes?
will the darkness of my corneas cause them to look away?
will they burn my body like forgotten poetry?
will i die in tragic infamy?
could i be a martyr?
i'd call to jesus
i wonder where he is
we're all going mad down here