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"Sign says: Out of Order"

its broken.

kinda like the sweet sparrow
dropping hard from its nest
its wing flapping hard against the dust of the earth
eyes wild and unforgiving, trying hard not
to feel sorry for itself and establishes within its mind

that it has a broken wing.

its discarded.

merely a decomposed state of composition
hidden with maggots and live insects
swarming to infect and circumspect the small pieces of flesh
exposed from hard calcified bone and marrow. it lays there,
a piece blowing in the wind no longer recyclable to be sorted
in large aqua blue tubs to be reinvented into plastic cups
that once again,
someone will throw away.

its shattered.

a small piece of glass giving way of
a thousand shards electrified by the morning glory of the sun
reflected in bursts of prisms that personified what used to be
a whole but is not even a half of a half of a half any longer. and it cuts.
deep, dark, slashing waves into the
epidermis causing tickled shock waves to scream to the lungs
burst into bright red fury as blood seeps back from the wound
and the glass is no longer a worry-

because its numb.

Novocaine and earth bound hallucinogenics have
nothing on the none-ness of what's not felt as skin becomes
nothing more but a sagging wasteland of unfelt wrinkles
untouched goosebumps and ignored curves. because numbness is desired,
wans to be felt, wants to be the oxymora the unfolds to thee
because nothing felt is better than pain applied


me. and i wonder. and remember. when this broken, discarded, shattered numb
tomb became the corazon which i have once loved and shared memories with.
but i am numb.
discarded and broken. no one lines up to save me from me.
and i carry these wounds
exposing the world to



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