my heart hurts

trapped pounding
relentless annoyance
the horse was dead long
before you started beating.
unseated, crying, ignorance,
my closest is my closet me,
dying light; a candle to see by,
do right by, the wax figurine.
the morning will show a prostrate
caricature of a carousel. head
drawn to the side. string ripped from
insides. the lines that create you are crude.
they make you hard, an armor against...me.
i've always been fond of mithridatism,
ritualistically bleeding the evil out.