Grenade

This has been 

a long time coming, 

bladed words 

bubbling at the 

back of my throat, 

and heat dulling 

the space behind my eyes.

But the screams 

have been torn out 

prematurely

before I can make sense 

of the thoughts 

that rake at me, 

thoughts that 

scratch and scrabble 

to cling on 

to a sense of security. 

The blades come back 

to cut me 

and warm tears run 

down my face;

my pin has been pulled 

and I just want to 

minimize the 

casualties.

It's been a rough night.