brittle boned

the low

electric glow - static snows in the lobby

dull tv

magazines

waiting rooms can't hide me

from the sting

paper sheets

bloodwork and the iv

and the whirring machines while the nurses reassure me: this will be quick and easy

i'm not gonna feel a thing

lie and say it'll be alright

like a stray falling asleep

cause i'm so good at hurting myself

pulse is slow

faint metronome on my left side beneath my protruding spine

you can hardly hear at night

white flag

blindfold covering my sunken eyes

and a line of rifles aimed at my sick mind

cause i'm so good at hurting myself