Paint a Vulgar Picture

by Jonathan Loucks

A rope unraveling, bit by bit
the nylon endings of my compulsions fray:
Running into walls with knives set at chest-level.
Gunshots to the gut like electroshock they hurt
so much. Flinging oneself off bridges above concrete
parkways, only to land stiff in glass spider lattices,
resurrected but half-dead. These thoughts consume
me, ravenous yet set to purge. I was making myself so sick,
I had no arms. Still, I have to beg: Stick your fist
down my throat and push until I’m split.
Now, push harder.