Broken Glass

I will never be fine

Until my arms are cold and empty
Bottomless
Crescent-smiles,

Until my heart’s flesh lies still,
Burst open,
Rotting in its crevice

And silence surrounds it
Like earth.

Nothing will save me
But to reach such perfection:
This final state,
This culmination
Of nothingness.

(But then, of course, it never works)