A chair in the middle of a

Large room. I sit at the center and

Call to an echo. I, Disfigured of heart,

A tendon torn and masticated, become 

A cripple yet again. Exiting the womb with a

Wound, a baby’s barren ribs. She took both legs and

Broke them. Yet still I learned to walk, and still she snapped the bone at the ankle. 

Crawling then, I dug my own exit through the 

Family flesh, singed it closed with a rage full flame, and washed my hands of it with the midnight mourning. 

Alone in the middle of the room, swallowed by the sadness of a black hole.