worn type ribbon

rip-torn
lying below
the floorboards
as i do
it is difficult
to imagine
the beat of
my telltale heart
let alone
the visceral notions
of anyone else
thriving
above ground
seeing the light
trusting in
the beauty
of a new day
when so much
can go this
way or that
come what may-
hem and hawed
to death
and so
i run for cover
hidden from view
trying to catch
z's or a's
or b's or c's
that spell out
something nice
to drown out
the incessant
smack-smuck-stick
sticking-unstucking
blood-soaked sound
of the papered
surgical boots
beating against
my skull.