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I.

Yes,
it still hurts
when you pick at my scabs.
Do I still care?
But it no longer draws
the blood you desire.
It does,
however,
increase the pain
and anger
which helps,
I hope.

II.

When the side inside
clicked
on this night
alone
the wine bottle
made me forget
you
as I shattered
the glass
on my flesh.

III.

Pain is nothing
after this last time
because now
I learned how
to convert emotion
into a glass dance.
Floating green prisms
turn and twist
in silent space.
Crimson
wells from cracks
in my arm
I will not feel it,
today.

Lance Wagner
December 1999