Free

Soon to be Bandaged in Bondage

I nailed my palm
to the chopping board
when you startled me from dreams,
rammed my mind
into dark cracks,
bruised my thoughts
until the yellow I saw
shone from your mouth.
 
Cut


i
Red welts on your wrists
remind me of others
seen through the haze of dusk
wiped clean in the clarity of dawn.

ii
Wrist by forehead
both red
on white pillow.

iii
Cutting creates pain
takes the mind
on a different path
to pain that slits the heart.

iv
For the finder
there is no pleasure,
no peace,
no play on perhaps, or maybe, or one day.

v
Soften the flesh
steals the heart
steers it up, down, away, anywhere.

vi
a temporary fix
blocks the memories
but doesn't erase them.

vii
smear dirt on the blade
do it right this time
from bottom to top
deep
end it now
quick
so i don't have to die slowly
watching.
 
I write to purge.
One after another
after another,
to cull the power
your frustrations carry.

Your pain tears my soul
sears the open arteries
that once cradled my heart,
carried my love, conditioned
my mind.

I feel your feelings,
understand the stark death
of broken bodies, a brain
that ceases to function
seized by a momentary slip.

I write so you'll evacuate
the city of my soul.
 
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