These muscles ache and stretch
they are the Devil’s Sinews,
the machines of a vengeful spirit.
My heart, clutched by blackened bones
is pounding and burning,
my stomach spraying acids from it’s
I would scream if my lungs would not
brim with pesticides.
I would kill if my hands would
stop ripping my skin from me.
I would eat and tear and scream would
my body permit me.
Instead I smash my hands on concrete
until they are but
Instead I break myself apart.