I am imaging all the worst that could happen to me; the torture before my death and then the disposal of my remains.
First of all; my chest has been split open.
That is how vulnerable I feel.
My ribs are broken and disassociated from
my life's work, like they never even lived
inside of me!
I mean my own ribs that protected my lungs!
Do that not know how much I love them?
And then my backbones have been scorched.
Some asshole took a torch and applied it to
every spine, I can forget about ever walking again, too,
because my legs...forget about 'em.
Fuck if i know where my brain went.
Probably tossed into the garbage
and a homeless cat is clawing at it
as if it was a ball of yarn.
I mean really, I should do myself a service
of self sacrifice. Whatever made me
live on this earth anyways? I want to go.
The title does not do this poem
piece of shit justice.