Mourning Men Who Haven't Died

incredibly
the power of your choice
leaves me eviscerated
deboned
like a naked piece of cold poultry
and it’s all just happening again
really and truly
for the very first time
as if you just came in and broke it to me
and the floor just tipped out underneath my feet
and I am reduced to nothing but viscera
no skeleton nor muscles to hold me up
no words nor voice to articulate my grief
only worthless puddles of blood and pus
seeping across the carpet in oily pools
putrid like me