comparison is carnage by another name
comparison is a pickpocket plucking joy from my handbag
I have been compared to countless things and things
that cannot be counted, or counted on
mostly fair assessments of character
only a handful of assassinations
I have been an assassin.
accused of killing
minutes carelessly turning earth, looking
for words to say the unnumbered and the unnamed
it is ineffable and I effing hate it like a hangnail
I cannot quit picking at the quick
then dousing it in ethyl alcohol, or the other kind
sometimes when I'm bleeding out from the ripped skin
I watch it dribble down my guilty fingers into the sink
with dried bits of fluoride still clinging
hard drips that won't rinse
there is never enough blood to fill the basin
never enough origin in your story to cover the drips
so I settle my savagery and rinse my hands of it
letting myself enliven at the sight of my innocent, open palms
instead of crying over a little gore, creating more horror
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