So oddly suitable

[dull boy]

I been stuck up in the sunken place,
screaming out these sockets
tryna speak from down up under pain.
Lungs are flooded. Suffocate on suffering.
Such a fucking waste. Blood is bubbling.
Busted mains buckle under numbness weight.
Hold me down. Punch my face.
Something. Nothing’s what we say.
From butterflies in stomachs
to butterfly knives and flummoxed.
The flutters. To hiding what we’re loved’for.
The messiness. The stresses we’ve assessed
would upset our wedding dress kiss.
The hallow vows. Our cotton mouths
wet the vetted guest list with second guesses sweat drips.