tearing apart old stories like
Performing surgery on yourself
Irrigating veins with ink and brandy
Padding cavities with pages-to-be-trashed
that fell from your fist when you finally fell asleep
re-discovering forgotten manuscripts like
Looking too long and too closely
into the dark parts of yourself you thought
you had chased away with
“Your smile lights up the universe”
scribbling down new ideas like
What happens when you’re done working on yourself?
Will there be nothing left to say?