Body is sick
Mind sicker, slaughtered
She uses all possible tools to pick herself up,
The plastic bag that is her body is overflowing,
Organs keep flying out, nerves out of place,
Skewed, with all the severed ties,
Mangoes and coconuts scattered across the floor,
Hands trying to pick up the clutter,
Tries to plaster up all that is cut in the wrong way,
Melons being fried from the scorching heat,
The smell of burning flesh is still an embedded memory she will not forget,
Sometimes I find myself reaching for items that fell out the grocery bag that I wasn’t even aware of,
Picking things up whilst there is a hole growing larger and larger,
It all falls,
The sky seems upside down,
Sometimes it goes black,
Light all shone out, on other days it’s pink,
My body is a waterfall,
my whole being discharging,
Eyes formed oceans,
My blood formed rivers,
This letting go,
As if there was nothing to hold onto anymore,
Noone to trust,
Nature embalms the cuts,
Or attempts to,
Yet infections sometimes settle in
Like jam on toast,
Flies come to feast,
As if in a jungle,
The bag has fallen, like the body,
Papayas lay open like a vulva,
It’s layers ever so beautiful,
But nothing dares go in,
Not even a touch,
Instead she bleeds, her insides collapsing
She’s hungry at times,
Attempting to decipher what is real,
My body is murderous.
Cruel,
I’m now attempting to dig deep,
Figure out what which is caused by psychosis,
And that which is broken internnally
On top of that which is caused by the beatings.