Long Story Short

what happened to you
to make you want to happen to me
this way?
did it tickle at first
then sting
and did you feel
like washing it
until it bled?

did the line
crust and scab
eventually?

or when, actually,
did gangrene rot away
your reasons
and turn you into the amputee
whose feelings were first a tickle
then a sting and finally
full on hurt
that scared you so with their throbbing
you suspected them infected
and scrubbed them raw
opening them to air,
pest, and pollution
until the gangrene smelled?

like incense you light cigarette after cigarette
and still
no relief.

i am not the first time your hurt was
introduced through pleasantries
and random conversation; found you
one fine day and broadcast your shortcomings
like breaking news and like
you break me.

we break again and again like skin
that fails at healing, erupts rigorously from
angry, boiling, swelling, pulsing, and
exploding pus that it be held no more.

too bad
there are no laws against the body breaking;
the soul rotting and expelling its stench
over cities and children; errand runners and
possibilities.

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