An ab on the use
sive you sew what you spend
and never in end
I fly my wings
song I fly my heart soul
and break at the bend

Tell me loosely
cut me quickly
and snap my scent
grow on this saw blade
and grow on my pill case
I will never love again

Am I your use
ment I gnarl at the black
please don’t hate me
and please don’t save me
I hardly feel the pinch
barely feel the lids pretense

Fill my blankets
Fluff my pillows
don’t ever come back
These moments are mine
and these bruises are mine
this sting is mine
and everything you’ve done to me
shows so carelessly on my skin
covered up in the prettiest of fabrics
to somehow veil this ugly
lament and shame that once was prized
once was bound by your beautiful shadow
and I will suck this poison out myself
bleed this bone and screw
from this ever coveted shelf
tear out this side of me that wants you back
and leave myself with only these hands
so blazingly bound by wick and wax
say my prayers as if someone answers
as if someone would want to hear this
annoyance of a voice that harks in my lungs
and flows so crookedly from these lips
I have had everything
and now I have these hands
these burnt and blistered hands
all of the crumbs
and all of the rust
and shackles
and torn tattered thickets
all of mine remembering!

I am a slew of thoughts
that no one will ever think
a curse that no one will ever speak
You have reduced me
to tack and
break up sonnet
substandard to mine usual work
and for this I hate you

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