there is a knocking on my ribs
incessant
unceasingly so
it reminds me that I live
some days it's quiet
slow
terrifyingly so
and i wonder what it is like to die
some days it's loud
drumming
agonizingly so
beating at my bruises till i cry
some days it's loose
traveling
aimlessly so
like i am, like i am afraid to be
some days it slips to my head
venomous
bitterly so
and i vomit at the taste of it
some days it weighs more
solid
nauseatingly so
and my hands shake as i cough
some days it's weightless
vanished
blessedly so
but it leaves a dark stain behind
