red

i sit here
eyes of glass, hands red, mouth full of sand
tongue tied
i hear it beating
a low thud
a pathetic crawl
no longer the racing sprint that i once rejoiced
the sound that made me leap from buildings
what does its presence matter now?
it might as well have been ripped from my chest and stuffed into your mouth
an assault on my very essence
sliced into tiny pieces and crumbled to the floor
quicksand
this is all i have left
may others never feel this pain
a loss so deep that senses no longer matter
take my eyes, my nose, my hands
rip the skin from every limb
but not that
what is left?
a machine
do with me as you please
tell me and i will follow
but i must do this first

red