How does it feel....

A bite here, a bite there.

Beyond repair.

I said I’d swallow that salt to pack those wounds; I said it dont need amputate.

But goddamn that aint true.

Cause when you cut off a limb at least you got rid of the sickness.

Look down, see that scar and maybe even laugh a little bit.

But shit like this you cant just cut off and go bout your day - hell no no way

Take a bite, hell invite your friends too. They like it join in why dont you?

Chew and spit it out, tell the story with passion and fashion in your regaling.Change the tale, make it good. I know your type.

While I pack these wounds.

Sweet crimson liquid, they are coming to finish off what you couldn’t or

would not do.

They come for the scraps.

The eyes.

The heart.

The brain.

And what bits of flesh that may be left. Stapled, stitched and bruised

- Moving, flailing but not ruined.

Goddamn these wounds.

Cover them

Pack them.

They still bleed thru.

Some even re-open, aint that something?

Taking a bite but never the whole thing.

Cause it wasn’t about the hunger. No.

That cant be it.

You would’ve found me, bones and all for the buzzards a long time ago if

that was so.

An original poem by Lana Kayne