So much blood in his mouth,

He’d swear his tongue was chrome.

 

Saliva turned to liquid mercury,

Thin between the cracks

Of his teeth.

 

Lip inflated

Like a slug

Doused in salt,

It twitches like it’s

Set to burst.

 

Eye a cherry bomb

In the socket.

Never got to see it

Burst,

Only felt it pop.

 

He blinks gravel from

Wet eyelashes

Matted with crimson

weeping.

 

Each breath is

Below freezing,

Sore throat,

Shattered ribs,

A nosebleed that’s

Half jelly,

Half metal.

 

He spits in the sink.

It hits porcelain

Like a bullet.

Sounds silver,

Looks ruby.

 


James Ezra is based in Texas. There, she writes short stories that evoke the feeling of licking a nine volt battery. Follow on Twitter: @sickwithstress

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