an untitled me

how i was feeling one night

a bottle full of broken glass

worn down to sand

but still full of sharp edges

to make you bleed

gingerbread man thoughts

fly from my mouth

pricking fingers and pushing buttons

my butterfly net filter snaps down too late

how did we all miss this?

twisting turning running away

but there is nowhere to hide from

the bats in the belfry

and the guillotine dreams