like blood in the mouth or
seawater in the throat, i
feel a caustic wrongness, a
constant creaking at the
hinges of the soul, an
invasion of my depths that
feel the scraping of their flesh from
greedy words and arms

an unrelenting bitterness
on the tip of my tongue
pieces of glass line my gum and
i bite down to taste the
wounded grin

rotten as old bones
i hide behind a cloak and
feed the dust