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poetry

Hacksaw

Take a saw and hack thy heart out
Of your chest
Open it up and find the piece
That you gave to her
(Remove it, you have no further need of it)

And pull your ribs back together
And stitch your skin back together
(Leather saddle style, please,
For some scars are worth remembering)

And be at rest
Until it is time to remove the next piece of your heart
Until there is nothing left
But an empty hole
And saddle stitches

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About Quinn

In it but not of it. A reformed player, now watcher. Speaker of raw truths.

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Raison d’etre

"Raw," she said. "I want something primal. I want something bare and naked. I want you to give me this life raw, unbidden, unhidden, free, fair, and true. Can you do that? Can you do that for me?"

One may only try.

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