Watch your wishes.
I once wished for a single pair of living hands - just to feel -
to know that I was even there.
Instead
I have a batallion of fingers
gouging at me, prying me opened,
pulling me apart: Molestation
at its max.
Being pet all over
with mouse-traps and
jack-flaps, jacking-flap opened
and spewing the magma
so rough and regardless,
but making sure not to get my hair:
always sure to miss my face.
They all want my head on a stake.
Where will they put it?
Who gets to have it?
You think I'm a snake, but you want me
staked and poised
upon your garden
symbolising something...
This is where the sense unravels.
If you're always
torn in every way
you'll run out of everything.
So stop,
if you do this.
If you're giving
a thing
until it makes you feel nothing,
or something revolting,
it's time to step back:
you're done for a while.
Give to yourself and you won't feel so vile.
-clw
