I am a tangle of maladies.

Do you see this foot?

It hangs like a broken tooth on a

shredded tendon now.

It hangs like a busted

doorknob.

My hands?

They were not spared.

No, they twist

like spools of wild string flung

recklessly down a flight of stairs.

My hands were not spared

As my eyes were not.

My pupil stays stained,

iris bleeding, veins splintered

like bone fractured by blunt blows.

It is the hoards of visions, it is the

vicious hour of digestions.

I distend with voice and common

indignation. You seek the anomaly

like a slipping tide seeks the shore.

You've touched my tendons

but want none of it -

the seas caresses drive me mad!

Stop brushing my ankles!

You see my leprotic lashes,

my torched tongue!

but only reach for a sliver of

falling skin.