Most of my poems come to me in a flurry of a moment. A rush of particular emotion. This is for sure, one of those.
Throw me up against the wall,
Mark my skin,
Like countless times before.
Take a claw to my belly and unravel me.
Pooling and twisted guts of bloody thread.
Open the cage.
Snap the bones.
Render me useless.
Take my sight as if it doesn’t matter.
Rob me of my voice as if it was yours to steal.
Wrap your grip around this pale neck.
Pluck the flower from the stem.
Remove the sun from the sky.
Squeeze the life from the lungs.
I am nothing,