It feels like I'm undergoing
open heart surgery
and there's no anesthesia
to account for these goldfish
who flip flop about
inside my belly
nor a reason as to why
the surgeon
seems awful malicious
for a god
Mind is beginning to wonder
if she'll ever fully recover
from this barbaric procedure,
the verity of it all
seems over exposed,
misshapenly transparent,
and tastes painstakingly real
like aspirin or liver
Sticky situations are much more pretty
when tucked
far beneath the skin
where only a fool
knows it's address
but my guts and bones and flesh
are all open for interpretation now,
yet I see no comedy
nor beauty
and entirely too much blood
for even a joker
to laugh off this scene
