i.

love, couldn’t you just let me go?

it’s like poison being
injected into self-inflicted
wounds—and this happens while
the toxic waste basket sits next to you,
but you can only scream as gashes are being
torn open again and again
and again. you watch the green pus
fill your insecurities.
i can feel your smile
at the thought of that pain.

i feel the hate of past lovers flow
through my veins, but yours always
feels the foulest.

ii.

my head is spinning,
and all i hear is your voice.
a tornado of words ripping
through my frontal lobe,
yes, it was you who
tampered my reasoning.

fists against my skin,
beating bruises deep
into my internal organs
and where my veins are pumped
with the foreign blood
of a terrorist.
your snickering drill holes into my bones,
don’t you know?
my bones are so brittle nowadays
but, darling, i’m telling you i’m not that weak.
yet.

please, just go away,
my mind isn’t your jungle gym.
stop messing with the bolts.

iii.

no, you inscribe into my skull,
this is my home.
she shows me my ankles and
yells, look at what you’ve done!
but i just sit there,
my head bleeding onto white rags,
tuning out my conscience.
or is it something else?
are you something else entirely?

iv.

when i speak,
there’s a roughness i don’t understand
anymore.
i hear hatred building up and it explodes
just like it always does:
hands shaking,
heart rattling.

my eyes look empty.
can’t you see?
iris, pupil, cornea,
all the same brown black grey
color. a void in my system.
the boardwalk to my brain
crushed by your tornado.
i look into the mirror and
i get a blank stare from the one
i’m supposed to know so well.

my vacant eyes sweat.
my brain starts to malfunction.
my breathing becomes heavy.

i say so long.