Sometimes I can recall losing my mind, briefly.

It broke apart in my hands like a block of sod
but it bled like brain matter and I worried about the carpet. I remembered
the guttural sounds and my fingers
on the window screen;

some storm guard that was,


it kept me inside instead of keeping the weather out when
(I was the weather.)
the joints like trees violently shaking in the wind of my confusion;
I was raining pretty hard of course.
The wild urge of my debris to spin and destroy left my arms numb
when I knew I was an egg fallen off a wall
and I had stained a reminder to outlast any scar
mapped out on the organs I gutted from myself
that the steak knife wasn't for opening CD cases.