nightstick 

watch me on the ground:
silent as concrete
and all the little holes of blood
that are thought to be intellect
undiscovered,
tumbling
like beads from a cheap necklace,
ripped by a rabid hand.

my skull in so many places.

would you rather
i bawl like a baby
than lay here, breathing when i need to,
waiting for blind hands
to lock mine together?
i can’t tell you how much it hurts.
i can’t tell you the truth.