Misery Symphony 

Ripping open my chest
you snap the ribs one by one 
and arrange my organs 
around you on stage;
your own private orchestra. 

You plucked the stitches
from my seeping skin
like honeyed guitar strings,
note by note,
making a melody from my memories.

You tie twine to my teeth, 
shove them in a box and call it a piano.
Pound on my heart
while I keep skipping beats.

You wave blood soaked hands around
directing my parts this way and that, 
squeeze my lungs like an accordion,
and stomp your feet 
when my tuneless breath catches 
in my callously displayed throat. 

And yet, it still surprises me
how quick you are 
to discard the discord that 
you created, 
amplified
and quickly hated.