My Friend Lives In The House Where The Bruises Come

[kumquatxxi]

My Friend Lives In The House Where The Bruises Come

I cut you into quarters and
thirds and
fifteenths and
every
cell
of your irreverent being I
cut up into the sky
by the counter
of a kitchen 
you thought caffeine-less 
of a home you
thought homeless
with a woman 
you though 
thoughtless.

What a rough and unmannered thing you are!

I cut you
into 
quarters and coffee
and I lean invisible
on the velveteen armchair
while she shoots her mouth
off and you peel
back the flesh from your face
and say excruciating,
"Mother, Mother"
and she says the same
"Never, Never."

And I cut you loose, and I cut your strings
And I fly you in the air
all the bright and careless pieces of you
all the cells in your body.
but you hold tight
these rough unmannered things.
And drink coffee
black, no sugar.
Thoughts? :)