Poetry archive from the mental hospital

aim ilub

I seek it I disintegrate
Like a sculptor, I carve my body
I dig my fingers into its clay
And they emerge drenched in blood
Who knew these limbs were glass?
Shattered, transparent, fragile
My body pretends to be a kaleidoscope and forces me to stare at the stars that dance at great heights and tease my insignificance
I am only a shadow under their brilliance