when your heart is empty and you’re running
on the dregs of adrenaline,
fumes from nighttime pit stops –
go to the gas station and hook yourself up
to the tank.
your body is in tatters but you –
you will go on anyway.
there is a lattice work of oozing sores inside
of your ribcage
but you –
you ignore the pain.
instead, low on feeling, low on hope,
you plug in to the gas tank and
fill yourself up.
your brokenness will not hurt others,
but be careful near matches
you are too easily flammable.
you drip with petrol,
spilling out
of your mouth and from your
cracks.
you are full of fuel, but devoid
of life.
golden light will drip down your hair and neck like honey,
the sky is purple, crushed
blackberries and spilled grape juice
dribbled across it.
the sky is beautiful but you are not and somehow
that is okay.
you are ugly,
a broken glass, a cracked tile
marred.
you are etched with something terrible, but you –
you are whole.