When you bleed you feel sick
your manic frantic pedantic
thoughts supersede logic
it’s like being in love
a lot of all you’ve
got to soothe
yourself
is not
there
unless
you stop
feel the air
gauze the slop
woozy rooms drop
then adrenaline
there, there
your anger
has hit
ten
again

what
if what
you snivel
out your snout
is broken, bloodied?
Indeed, uncivil you too
would shout;

he did

hit you til you hid,

he shut out

everything but doubt…

like they’d
ever wade
in the pools of pain your life has become about;

you’ve sunk grooves
in the tree trunk that spells
their name—
the memory of that tree
belongs in hell’s
domain;

you’re just the same
as everyone else whose
true bruise
came
and went,
left them speechless,
cheek and lip pressed against cold cement