Snarl

the lip curls in disdain,
churlish and unremarkable,
a thud in the heart, the chest cavity hollow and dank,
stupid and ugly, its thoughts scatter around,
broken and hated, unwired and unknown.
sometimes thoughts of knowing the right things, of feeling the world,
descends into a hole, a caverning, dizzying bottom.
all it can feel is some cohesion, some sort of cohesion.
but even that lies on occasion and the shakes come back,
affecting the hand, the head and the eyes.
quivering twitching eyes behind heavy sored lids.
purple and blue surround the eye and escape over the neck and the shoulder and the breast and the pelvis, like a disease, a heavy unpredictable, debilitating virus,
its unpredictibility horrifying and tragic.
the tragedy never overcome by the happiness of being.
the happiness of being too short and too cruel.
the hole opens larger and darker and colder.
some day it will crack and splinter and fray away.
distort into noise and speckles and dots.
delete into microcosms, of cells and atoms.
tear away into nothing.