Can you feel it in your bedroom,
the unforgiving ache, alone in the bathroom,
on the floor, you, staring at a wall, or tracing
the tiles on the ceiling, wondering how many
pieces your body who be chopped to if your
head was stuck in a ceiling fan made of blades,

and then some invisible creature, maybe a ghost,
maybe your dead hand, stuffs the rest of you up
into the knives, leg, arm, leg, arm, body, body dead,
spirit alive? Spirit waiting for a home? Spirit, waiting
for somebody to take me there, waiting for the pain to
end, waiting to be responsible, waiting to make it all
work just, waiting. UP IN SPACE!