Inside Attack

I inhaled a demon into my body.

It says cruel & beautiful things to me.

It says things that are true. “The truth hurts.”

The demon has invited other demons to colonize me.

I’m under attack & there’s nothing I can do.

I am being suffocated, punched in the throat;

there’s a tube being shoved down my throat, sucking out the contents of my stomach;

there are two bloody palms clenched around my stomach, wringing it;

there are razors cutting grafts of skin from all my surfaces;

there’s a pressure washer spraying me directly in the face with frozen water;

hail of steel falls like bullets as I sink in quicksand while being torn limb-by-limb.

I’m in an ammonia gas chamber: my nose & eyes can’t stop running, can’t see or breathe;

a needle & wire are being threaded lip-to-lip, muting me.

Hundreds of people are cramming themselves in the chamber with me:

The 3^rd grade teacher has the nail-holed paddle ready & is bending me over the desk.

The fashionista beauty queen is shoving my limbs into new outfits; none of them look right.

The heroin dealer has the syringe locked & loaded, the tourniquet taut around my arm fat.

The plastic surgeon is marking off the places he’ll cut & suck the fat out.

The wrestler has me in a choke hold and the dominator is beating me in a gimp suit.

There is no tap out, no safe word.

The police stand above the pile of me, wielding their night sticks.

The pastor has dunked me below the river surface, for permanent baptism;

The executioner has cuffed me in for my electrocution;

a gang of thugs are raping & beating the living shit out of me;

the nazi has closed the locks & is turning up the gas.

I hear the hundreds of voices as I close my eyes, on the brink of exploding,

they’re singing death rattles & playing their bagpipes & organs & suonas.

Their voices sound familiar,

 sound like mine.