Autophagy

Standard

I’m tired of sweeping it

all under the rug,

of not acknowledging

the harms of an abundance

of clutter.

Yet I am a collector,

every broken piece, loose-end

and so on,

has fallen about,

my feet

regardless of redundancy.

I”m not comfortable enough

in my own skin

to leave it on —

too disgusted with myself

to pick all the empty suits

off the floor.

I’ve yet to come to terms

with the simple fact

that self-preservation

comes by way

of a controlled burn

at times.

With that, I curl my tail

all the way back,

and start to gnaw.

It’s all going to the same place

anyway.


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