damaged goods

“this shouldn’t be too painful” 

barely hearing her 

I count the divots 

of the drop ceiling tiles overhead 

one, two, three, fou…


sinking deep into the flesh 

with a turn, twist, turn 

to find that perfect spot for 

pulling the plunger 

removing a piece of me 

sucking a section of my heart 

in aspiration, as well 

injecting their metal tagged marker 

straight into my chest 

embedding within my meat 

removing only possible

when I am cinders and ashes 

this shell, forever labeled 

damaged goods 

until that day


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