i’m sorry i called you my love.         you darted from side to side in my hollow head. you are playing a band inside my brain. using my bones as drumsticks and plucking my vocal cords. you were shouting the abc’s, pouring the sound into my heart.

i’m sure you have heard that the abc’s have the same tune as twinkle twinkle.

remember

when we hiked out to the place your mother took you to play connect the dots with the stars. where the asteroid belt was expanding,

while you banged your head into it. kisses were exchanged and so were i love you’s. my innards unfolded        delicately while you tore my stomach open with fingernails caked with grime

i opened my drawer again today and found a rag encrusted with the dry brown blood. i fainted, i cried, and i sobbed

                     i sobbed.
you were still inside playing heavy metal.

i guess the point is
i want to open myself up on a table flooded with light and
tear
      you out?
use your nimble fingers.       the ones with freckles dotting them like tiny ants and dig through my organs, to find yours. please unplug them from my pores.

i heard a seagull today. its screeching carried me to detroit and you were prancing beside me. i listened to it as if that would change its song. honey engulfed my throat and i cried because i want to see you. behind my eyelids tears rolled forwards pooling up

but the puddles were jumped over and the drums which were sprawled across the floor made me trip and stumble

you stop pounding the drums to
                 engulf my mouth with your hands

Hands connected with pulsing webbed veins to arms that i used to love around me forcing dirty air to circulate a           contagious toxicity

that your breath spoons into me.