those are yours"
the possession of the handicapped
the bulbous bruised
I give myself the fight back against his frightened sickness.
His easy tears somehow my forgotten instigations
the body makes with imminent pain.
You pain me
so I place you
behind sprains and old injury made to heal on it's own.
The two times I broke your flesh, I meant it
as it was meant to kill me
to realize how much it hurts
to watch thinness transform into your stretching skin,
as I have known
I have spoken
as it does happen.
It does
and it did.
And I break my hands on your words once again.
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