DYSFUNCTION

I laid my wounds
on the table
and pus and gangrene and pain
I put the plates and cutlery
and cuts and tourniquets
I stopped the blood
I poured pus from the wounds
I opened the scars to the air
and it hurts me deeply
I cut some wrists
and I heard knocking at the door
right rhythm
perfect harmony
samba beat
I lay down on the blood
I spurted pus and saliva
let me digest
by myself
until I clot.