Shocking how a shock to muscles, to brawn,
sinew and thew, can ruin me. Hellfire
in the limbs. Rust in the nerves. Pinched neuron
and all at once my head has gone haywire.
Skull pain. Dull brain. All over what? A sprain.
Something inside. A railroad spike jutting
from my chest would be easier. Cocaine
and dime-store morphine won’t dull this throbbing.
My world of muck fuck (sludge boys and goo girls)
is gone, though honorable disembowelment
still holds its appeal. Anything to blur
what I must endure, what rises and swirls
inside me. Pain is a low-down varmint,
a touch divine, a great equalizer.