I try to stop her
Elusive puppeteer
Spinning me on the spot
My wrists and ankles ache from rope burn
And I’m on fire
My head dangles precariously
A lure at the end of the fishing pole
Waiting
For biting little gnashers
To pop the balloon
The sink calls
To bleedy, beady parchment palms
That break when bent
Chalky chapped chandeliers
That pour sour oil into the wounds
And soak in vinegar, rubbing alcohol, and hand sanitizer
Beautiful
It snaps and stings
At a central sorry nervous system
Tied off with rope
By the puppeteer
So I do not notice the peeling
That reeling peeling feeling
As she wears down little spider grabbers
Pull fresh peach skin off molten yellow fruit
And I stare at the sink
Where they drip
Gloved in elegant wet wipes
Embroidered with red
And ridden
I peel off the gloves
The party is over now
Time to…
Clean…
My little strips of paper in red ink and rips
Torn away
From icy blue veins
And I’m on fire
Again
So
I stare
At that mirror
At her
Cracked
So many
So many many many
Of me
Above the sink
I…
Stare
Into blank eyes
Of the little demon I am inside
Washing my hands
Again
And again
And again…
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