it hurts

it's like:

my ribcage being snapped apart piece by piece
an addict's withdrawal
touching warm skin but feeling dead man's bones
watching helpless as my brother accepts a scourging from demons
fingernail in my iris
raw hunger
my brain matter being unraveled and excreted through my ear
a door. i wish i would have opened. i wish i wouldn't have.
my stomach constructed of paper
my organs make shifted of snake skin
scars on legs
bleeding blisters
falling apart neatly so i will be no trouble when packed away in a pretty little box

that's what it's like when i cried for you last night.