Sliced to bits
In meer moments as your fingers invaded me.
My soul died once,
And dead it stayed.

My body: the haunted carcuss dies a thousand deaths.
Slowly,
Day by day.

Ruined Relationships
Job loss.
This body bleeds out endlessly the things
You did to me.
Refusing to refuse to rise,
This body drags me through this life,
In search of a thread
That could sew it up just right.

Wandering along the river with the hope that a sunrise will bring enough light.

One wonders long enough, and the crime scene evolves into a home.                                   
And at home, one tries to wash the crimes of the scene down the drain.                            
Your skin gets cut to bits while the evidence swirls the drain.    
Red covers everything.
After a while fresh wounds heal.
Things scab over.                         
And your home is full of scars,
but it is home.
And home is good.