im sorry there's so little of me left. i think if u were to cut me open id be sterile on the inside, clean-swept and perfectly morgue-like with nothing but chips of bones and dust gathered in the corners. lately i don't feel like i used to. before there was a big absorptive moss called a heart in my chest that would grow fat and happy with love, and a little gold would drip from it & bring the buzz to my veins. and sometimes the world would throw me a left hook and a jerking stop-drop-roll catastrophe would wring it dry but all it took were a few smiles for it to start plumping up again. it was always there & always hungry & always ready. now there's just a lot of static empty space stretching wide and clinical and my feelings crash into my hardwood chest and leave dents. occasionally they clang around and bounce off my insides like a badly-aimed pool ball and I walk around with a weight dragging my gut in circles. i used to be afraid of the torrent that would escape if I opened up too much, but by now I'm sure the whole damn world could go on a hunt inside me and not a single person would find anything at all.
