I’d take a knife and cut it out

like some deep-down infected gout

if only it were there under my skin.

I’d prick a vein and let it bleed,

free flowing, nothing to impede

if I thought it were streaming deep within.

I’d amputate it bit by bit

til there was nothing left of it,

then throw it piece by piece into the grind.

I’d heat a rod to glowing red,

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Curled up in the corner

in dead of the night.

Afraid of darkness

and praying for light.

Eyes peer from the ceiling.

Hands reach from the floor.

Hearts beat from the walls

and he stands at the door.

No chemical shields me.

No masquerade hides.

The sweat of my body,

the fear in my eyes.

He’s pounding and pounding

and growing in strength.

He’s ...

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