slicing open my back with scalpels, surgical steel flaying skin from muscle, muscle from bone, each new incision takes you closer to home. Second base, third, uninterrupted rhythm drawing the blade further in to pulsate against lovely precision. you take such care when you're tearing me down, slicing like an artist to remove the tenderest parts of this decaying existence. your persistence is admirable, dramatic, infallible; you want all the pieces of me visible and destroyable. keep digging, keep digging, for god's sake you can dig deeper than that, but the heart is gone, you're digging for fool's gold and all that pulsates are the remaining organs drawing blood through flawed machinery to perpetuate the mirage of life in my face. my brain is already dead, overdosed on thoughts of you and the things you do that keep me from rebuilding myself from the debris of your disasters. unthinking, unkind, you can't even pause long enough to let me unwind from your curled finger. you linger, you linger, pound bolts through my shoulders to keep me in place, meat hooks through my breasts to remind me what you loved least. i lose face with each new endless night where my blood curdles with fury, my stomach aches with humiliation while you're vacuum-packing my naked organs and preparing them for display in pride of the beautiful mess you've made. you are my greatest ruin and it is disgusting; i gave myself up to someone who doesn't even know the meaning of 'verisimilitude' but lies to my face regardless. pitiful waste, take my blood and keep it, i never want to bleed again.