Friday, November 12, 2010

Life's Blood

You are a fine pointed needle pricking and sticking me.
You poke and and jab with the finesse of a magician
So delicately you make tiny holes invisible to the naked eye
As if you want to take what's left of my flesh
And turn it into a masterpiece of pointillism
So lazy is this torture I don't even realize
I begin to deflate
I try to find who I once believed I was
Alas it is too late
I'm a lobster on low flame
Finally the flame is extinguished
I am the one to blame
I allowed you to make these craters and chasms in me
I allowed myself to go unseen
My fluids begin to drain out
Flowing onto the floor, and I worry not of the pain
But that it will stain
Draining slowly out of the hundreds of unseen holes
They widen and become gaping gashes
My insides become my outsides
As they burst out of my skin
We all look the same on the inside
Turns out after all that I did fit in.