Body parts lie scattered
across the asphalt desert
in the heat of her screams.
My stomach stabs itself twenty-six times,
twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine,
until it finally gives up and says “I’m fine.”
I hear a voice and the pain returns
like an unlocked liquor cabinet to a recovering alcoholic.
It kills me, but I love it.
Am I crazy,
or has the world just finally fallen back into place?