Peeling away at skin,
scooping out organs,
arteries,
things seen as uneeded.
Preserving the heart
in a glass container,
only to make the scene less gruesome.
Carefully carving the outline
of twenty four rib bones.
Sanding down the feet,
so they clank against the pavement.
Cleaning out the stomach
like you would clean out a pumpkin,
flinging the substance
across the room
out of anger.
The eyeballs bounce across the floor.
Long, outstretched bones
reach for the brain,
as it drains from the sockets-
not much left.
Although that was the goal from the beginning.
All that was wanted,
was a fresh start.
And the fresh start ends abruptly…
Karlee, I found your poem laugh-out-loud funny. Thanks!
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