a numinous devotion to love and the blood of that love strapped
on the fetters and branded the letters of self-aware stupidity sorely ‘round my
neck so throbbing with the natal necessity of reciprocal wringing that there
simply was no room left to scream into
a monster of depression had breathed all viable cells into its
intravenous labyrinth of pickled puzzles
and there was no room left to scream into
my female mobile martyrdom
shook the weakling off his toothpick foundation and
sent it spiraling through a humid home and
terrified empty space
like glass silhouettes shattered waterfalls
a starving fire blew temptation under the flimsy door
it desired only oxygen sanity self-preservation and
there was no room left to scream into