The Simple Life

The Simple Life

Cut in two pieces,

she wears razorblades 

around her neck

and wrists.

A not so subtle warning.

Bewildered;

the crying stopped 

long ago,

but the screaming

never did.

And she holds the world

accountable,

spitting through the syllables 

of simple conversation.

Though that’s exactly what it’s not.

Moving the air in and out

with velocity

and momentum,

shouting fire

without the heat,

without the heart.

Impatient,

she breaks.

And there is no one left

to put her back together,

again

and again.