homage to otoplasty
I’m a tease?
Give me my own medicine then, medicate me, shoot me up and put me under.
Performing surgery in the dark is often unattempted but
I trust your steady hand,
Fingers like scalpels down my spine, that precision in your stare,
The silence as you listen to my breathing and begin to split my flesh,
A sliver of silver that you run around the back of my ear
And down my neck,
Across my collarbone,
And then right down the center, you split me in halves,
And all I can do is cling to the cold slab of metal you put me down on,
All I can do is cling for dear life while I’m
Looking in two seperate directions and I can feel the warmth in me spill out
Onto the floor,
What is it you’re searching for?
What did you reach in to remove, the waves of sound are sifting through my insides,
Separating what can be spared and what will be sacrificed to your devices,
This is cruel, really.
I can taste the salt from my tears,
And how they sting as they fall into my open skin.
Goddammit, this hurts, sutures nowhere in sight, only more knives,
All shapes and sizes, and a tongue so sharp it cuts glass; my bones are butter.