you throw
glass at your feet,
and admire the way
the light catches
yours shadows

//
this is how you see yourself
i think //

the house is quickly running out
of lightbulbs
i picture you living
in one of the broken ones
as it bursts
you bellow
from the place between your hips
where feelings go
and suffer infection

(i once had thrush for 6 months
and stabbing pains on the inside
the doctors said
there was nothing wrong
and prescribed anti depressants
to help the thrush
they hadn't found)

and you're Screaming
so low the room shakes
and the glass just BLOWS
with you inside.

and you're laughing
and say 'this reminds me of that time and so on and so forth and such and such'
that thing that you laugh at that makes me cry.

and you step on the glass
you Crush
and complain

that someone broke your home.