(the full title wouldn't fit in the box, so this is it in full:)

i've been told i've been playing with fire, but i can't find the burns


the adrenaline-ache
in the pit of my stomach
dispatches the doubts
that feast on the fat
of my brain

my skin could be fixed
if i could cut my appetite
and stop sipping
the blood from my own veins

have i been bleeding
on the carpet again?
my stitches feel loose
(i’ve been chewing
at the threads)

the structures of my head
are eaten away
from beneath
by nothing
more than termites