It feels kind of good
to go where you shouldn’t.
Dissociate.
Tear down caution tape,
go in the room
to tear down the wallpaper too.
Sit in it, wrap up in it,
those shreds of sickly color
plastered over splinters.
Take one or two
to prick your fingers
and scratch at the skin in your head,
tear open that squishy packaging you’re wrapped in.
Maybe your brain can breathe a little better
with some extra ventilation.
The little blood-pools
let you know you’re alive,
they focus the chaos deep inside
to one locus of pain,
one little ocean to drown in.
different faces 