Totemic— the drowned **** rises from the blasted shore, linking the severed heads, the spinal cord and collections of scorn.

Totem Pole

I am 
in a 
swiney bead 
of breast
when tines 
are forgotten
with shrines 
of cross
that torn 
pages now
drift back 
to whole 
still pick 
the seam 
those dark 
insignias entrust 
the norm

Tires

My Therapist said that I have abandonment issues,
says that I tend to idolize the people who leave me,
She says that I build *shrines* for those who leave, 
and **tombs** for those who stay.