I can’t shake this empty feeling In the peach pit Scraping the bottom Of my wallowing stomach It seems to always cave in Once I had thought it was full Kneeling down on the bathroom floor Fingers trying to smooth out The lumpy dumpling stuck in my throat Sometimes I can gulp it down Most of the time it lingers Lingers on like a foul odor Grasping at the back of my gullet Daisies, You fill me up with daisies But I keep plucking at the petals Until grey ash remains Why can’t I stop peeling away the flowers Why can’t I let things be Immobilized by the weaknesses of myself When I know for damn sure all this thinking...
Concrete carcasses
Zip tied to our hearts
Trap me Florescent skylights
Burnt pale skin
Weak in the knees
Weak in the head
Raw retinas
Can’t see through salt water
Worn out windshield wipers
Scrape the filth
From my fingernails
Eggplant leather skin
Beaten With tiny tenderizers
Dandelion liver spots
Hole-punched arms
Hole-punched heart
Fabricated feelings
Suffocated
Spaces between
Bone white teeth
Pierced blue lips
And marbled eyes
Cough back that bad taste
Lying froze on a brick floor
Screams evaporate to fog
No thudding beat
Blood boils in broken bagpipe veins
Chest concaved
Nerves numb
Machines of memories
Operated by a vacant chair
Separate me like laundry, place each part of me in different coloured baskets.
Pour fabric softener down my throat, soften the lumps I keep choking on.
I’m not clean…. I can’t get this filth out from underneath my skin.
Peel it back, one giant organ.
