Oh, crêpe,
how papier-mâché of me!
I’ve left my paper wounds wide open
oozing a fake serenity

caught in a loop,
tying white bows under the table
while trying to overlook
that my lava cake is left out in the oven

Maybe I should be gathering
those shreds of words that I’ve left behind,
put them in my bag and carry them – just in case – around

still pampering and caressing
the big bang inside my head
pulsating back and forth

still munching the insides of my walls
like a tiny quiet house mouse

I’m breaking my bone in two
- one half here and the other barely hanging around for you