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Grief Feels Like

064/365

Shook surface skin crawls.
Raddled it shatters, peels off.
Exposed meat drenched in human excrement, tears and blood.
Of rusted nails on the other end of hand plants and high fives.
Dangling eyes poked out by the want for blindness.

Piercing jagged knives cut credit card coke slices clean.
Drowned in dark cherry gravy.
First tender.
Sharp iron hammers.
Salt shower the flesh.

With no doors.
No Windows.
The tiny little lightless block.
Trapped.
Suffocation.

Delusional ghosts lie and accuse of life.
Paranoid imaginary friends with bad advice.
Psychotic reflection, emotionless and cold.
Bipolar tendencies in circles.
Catatonic denial.

Smashed elbows.
Smashed knees.
Smashed shoulders.
Smashed wrists.
Smashed ankles.

Drum crushing screams the scale of galactic catastrophes.
Cramps constrict.
Ribs snap and teeth are glass against each other.
Hanging bloody jaw.
Lungs filled past capacity rip.

And then you're still alive.