Have you ever seen your breakup
At the bottom
Of a toilet bowl
Last night i treated myself
To a three-course meal
Of mustard, spit, and toilet water splashback
Have you ever reached into the back
Of your throat with spider fingers
Digging for the right language
To communicate your pain
Spoiler alert: you won’t find it down there
But you will find:
Thick mucus
Strings of blood
Nail polish chips
And stripped knuckle-skin
And every time you pummel your four longest fingers
Back-and-forth against the back of your gag reflex
You’ll be pushing yourself deeper
Into the grave that nobody knew you were digging
