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manic write (tw: blood? violent stuff)

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every word against my abusers character is still shards of broken glass within my throat 
hot wet blood slick and thick drip into pages of books i'm trying to put down, set to rest, put to bed, 
i am kin with the alien spacecraft hovering, dull and strange, pockmarked with memories of another world, marred with bullet holes,
clouds gather at the edge of my vision, inside my greedy thankless throat they precipitate needlessly, desperately
plastic keepsakes, gifts, tear me open at the seam, click against my bones foreign and slick in my bloodstream
my thoughts are junk mail tossed aside but relentless and needy 
i feel strange and sick and I would like to leave, now, please

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