there isn't enough room
i'm filling up too soon
[and tearing out sutures
from the last attempt]
exponentially multiplying internals
growing too rapidly
flowing out of me
through yesterday's accident
sliding between threads until they snap
like wriggling beneath a fence until it falls on you
breaking the dam
the way that i am
too big to swallow whole
and, chewed up... still not digestible
there just isn't enough room
you always chop your face off.
The writing sounds interesting... is that something you've done?
Don't worry about the mittens, maybe i'll find some tomorow... or i can allways knit them myself, attempt atleast.