KD DeFehr

Sometimes I wonder if I could spend my whole life in a story and never feel as though I’ve missed a single thing.


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Bleeding Tears

I don’t cry tears

I bleed them

Cough them out of lungs

Spew them from sockets

where eyes once rested

Let them rain over flesh

Poisoning

Crawling

back into the depths of shallow veins

They choke the liver

Squeeze screaming kidneys

Writhing

They drench bones

in their joined monstrosities

I squirm, imprisoned in skin

Howling through open pores

And the metallic tasting tears

lurk  behind and between teeth

Venture up the screeching  jaw

Stretch the muscles so they break

So they cry too

They shake a tormented brain

Racking its skull

and it thunders so heavily against its casket

Splitting ear drums

so they curl

withdrawing into insanity

And I’m digging

Clawing into a chest cavity

to pull its beating – no, its pounding –  content from within

to stop the tears from spreading

Pulling open the gaping hole, I stare

into the pit of  madness

The intestines have found a new place to exist

in the acidity of the stomach

The tears put them there too

and I want to tear them from that place as well

It doesn’t belong

and it feels about as good

as the organ laying in my hand

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