I felt something rotting inside me
So I cleaned up, dressed down, and administered the anesthetic myself
The scalpel, it reminded me I could still be touched by something clean, something sterile
Imagine being so worthy.
I reached inside the incision, dug around my entrails
I could still feel a bit of sensation, but it was okay
The pressure let me know the organs were mine
My vision looked like a vignette.
I think I was blushing.
I searched and searched
My fingers made friends with the inside of my ribcage, and I told my muscles that it was okay
I scooped everything out but my skeleton
But nothing rotten could be found.
This isn't the first time this has happened and it probably won't be the last
You put the book down but you always open it again, looking for answers
You've read this story a million times, but you'll never be done dissecting it
I'll never be done dissecting either.
As long as I'm alive I'll disembowel myself looking for faults that don't exist.
I watch my blood run down into the floor drain again.