Exinsistent

Catapults graze my eyes eagerly awaiting new disguises:
disgusting digestions spewed as excuses and your black tongue,
smudged face, leaking white jelly balls tell me the rest-
soft skin hard mind.
Mints strewn on the floor.
Where was I? Where am I? When?
Sensations fizzle out at my stomach and I become a nun,
pain in my umbilical noose reminding me of the void that lies
beyond. Cavernous chasm of my insides, growing- red- pulsates alone.
Swirling patterns on the sheets mock me and imprison strangers
flickering on and off.
On and off. Buttons pressed with no consequence.
Swung from tree to vomiting tree with no end in sight and rope burn
and matches striking themselves over and over on my thighs,
which wave in the breeze like great white flags on ship's masts.
White surrender leaking and salt water overflowing onto the deck
drowning even the stowaways.
Water, air, soil still seem empty to the corpses without worms.