when-did-i-gia-rossum

When did I start behaving this way…
          being fine with the idea of being dead and played with?
     “Turn my intestines into the strings of a harp. Make my death into a sweet, sweet beautiful

melody.”

When did I start thinking this way…
          thinking that the only way I’ll be beautiful is to rip apart?
     “Sometimes… I want to be ripped open and my organs be displayed in an art museum. Then I

could truly call myself a work of art.”

When did I start writing this way…
          writing stories and poetry bloody and rooted in obsession

I want to feel your hands
Along the center of my back.

Pressing your fingers deeper till you feel my spine.

Each ripple,
each ridge,
each shiver.
Keep pressing and keep digging
Keep going until you can grab it
Rip it through my flesh
Pull it apart
Each vertebrae, rearrange them
Till I am anew

When did I lose my mind this way…

or was it already lost from the beginning?

When did I lose my innocence like this…

do I hold the internet accountable?

When did I?