I cut off a part of my body because it could see too much of me…

My bed is more than a palace or tomb.
It’s the inside of a tree.
I can only grow larger and take longer showers.
I have only just forgotten.
Wide open forces of night.
When I was a kid.
The world clawing me up.
The seascape.
My passive lips.
Aren’t I?
Like a cow tripping down the stairs.
There are sunspots on the sun.
It’s like a sickness.
And the opposite of foolish.
Resuscitating shores.
I step out of my room like a wild duck.
Me with a lame wing.
A notable beating in my chest.
A picked bone.
It’s lonely holding a cup of ice and trying to become pure.
My mouth fills with gentle stones.
A dog barks against his leash.
I will wrap myself with rope.
I will say the truth even when I say it wrong.
I have dreams of terrible waves.
Trying to breathe in them.
Or how the whole room goes quiet.
Forgetting the memory so that I can still live there.
How wonderful and damaging.
A bird that lives in the deepest jungle.
That only knows his name.
As if I could be eaten up by the so hot sun.
Out there everything turbulent.
And yellow.
And very bright.
And shrill.