Take your scalpel
and your white walls
and give them reasons to split my skin
to halt my existence
and make a hostage from out of my
aching joints


shove them inside of me
rattle my brain
like chain
make my world collapse
rebuild
revolver.


Put me deep under
so time runs ahead
makes me so groggy
the past seems to fade


and everything I once knew
will be worth nothing
an inferior existance
marked by a hasty incision


so pink it pales the mouths of babes
raised like a serpent
crawling beneath tired flesh
ever present
and so humiliating.


you can’t even promise I’ll heal.

i live in a giant petrie dish
i am small and flawed
with tweaked out nerves
that feel more than they should


really, im a sweet girl
once you stop looking at me
like that.


floating about, anchored down
i rattle off answers just like a machine
just so you get it
i am not glass.


i am not unable.
id give the world to explain, that i can
only show you who i am
what im made of


not so much metal and plastic
rubber and imbalance
i am just as ordinary as you


except


i smile more. and
im more likely to remember
what color your eyes are,
than you are mine.


because you are always
looking elsewhere.