Bales of Hay
A Poem
I don’t know what has scared them away;
My thoughts, perspectives, or emptiness.
How I’d ingest whilst being completely devoided, decreased
From myself; maybe that’s why they thought
It would be better to leave.
The mirror and I have been competing for the title
Of the one who’s been sick the longest.
We both have concise arguments of pain, hurt and
Depletion.
It throws in my face that I’m smaller; parts of me have been
On the run.
I lost organs, keratine and now the strands that kept me
Sewn together are breaking into dead splits.
I feel like a prison under rebellion. Mattresses burn in my stomach
And every word I speak tastes of ashes and incarceration.
Something won’t let them continue inside, so they bribe my skull
Until it opens and gushes out the captive.
For a while, it made sense to gather these tufts of fur
Like one would collect lost buttons and old coins and shiny bits
That have no use but seem to hold something left untold,
Some shards of history of someone long gone.
But I do not reside in what fell to the ground. Not anymore.
I’m in the scarred skin, my thoughts still hanging from the scalp
And the right ones sliding to my throat; devouring my mind
One neuron at the time,
Until I master how to regenerate myself.
© 2020, Giulia de Gregorio Listo. All Rights Reserved
