my stomach’s
a cracked vase
you’re filling up
with casket nails
.
i plead that i’m
already full but
you pretend to
not be fooled
.
my mouth fills
up with blood
but at least i will
not be thirsty
.
i’m getting used
to the taste of ink
and the aftertaste
of coppertone rusty
.
my stomach’s
a cracked vase
and the flowers
have long died
.
but if you’re still
curious, then go
ahead and check
whatever’s left inside.