origami dragons in a mason jar

[iv]
tissue paper spin'd, i   
fold my bones into the unhatch'd egg   
nestl'd in your skull:   
peel myself from noon &   
the flypaper tongue ov last night ~   
... i leave my skin on your palms, a   
fleeting vergissmeinnicht   
to be wash'd from your lifeline   
when you clean me from   
half-realis'd thoughts   
voic'd in embarrass'd jest...  
i split hairs, twine them around   
the throats ov moppets   
waiting to be burn'd   
  
[iii]  
ô Satan,   
prends pitié de ma longue misère!*  
there is fire in my sclera,   
a constant wet scorch   
undull'd by the whiskey  
& the pills & 3am baths   
that don't wash away the filth   
thick in my veins.  
i am misery made pale manifest   
an automat'd response forc'd  
by breath i cannot conquer,  
by the humiliating will ov my flesh   
when i have already open'd myself to  
the inevitable entropy, crippling compulsions  
never long deni'd   
  
[ii]  
have you studi'd the light bulb?   
that hipster motherfucker_  
hanging there, swinging in the breeze   
all nak'd & unasham'd   
  
[i]  
you will never hear me laugh with more joy than now  
when i am emptiest,  
i think it's just the tinny sound echoing between the fissures ov my broken places;   
a kintsugi giggle like a school bell, like a child chasing the first few butterflies ov summer, like bubbles   
fizzing in a fluted glass   
like... like... like some happy fucking cliche that has shit to do with anything