i drink corrosive whiskey and slip off a graffiti artist’s clothes
“indisposed” i send to my ex-boy as i compose
a “wish you the best” then discarding my phone
and any reminder of time or an outside world
this is temporary, i’m convinced

i massage my wrists, ease the marks of this month
and fictional cuffs i forced off
like a garden in flames, a rust cools the stress
of some cathartic gentle anger i hold

because yesterday was overwhelming