Those who acknowledge your pain shall never go unloved;
those who sell a cure for it shall never go hungry.

I no longer care what your metaphors mean:
strip them off and stand naked in the icy wind
that peels tears from your vivid eyes
or go unnoticed and unremarked.

If you argue for reduction, for restraint, for confinement,
I will not hear you.

Your words are automatic deposits
into a closed account.

You concatenate your components
so idiosyncratically that you are of no use to me—
go free!

What use, my words,
if they don't read into your heart
and hurt a little?