lacerated land-line

this isn’t a breakup poem.

it’s a bloodbath.

the kind that leaves missed calls like crime scene photos.

this is what happens when someone ghosts you like it was mercy.

when silence isn't peace — it's proof you were never real to them.

i kept checking the screen like it owed me closure.

watch me bleed out on the floor

i keep coming back for more

you took a knife straight to my chest

now you ignore my every word—

i don't exist, can't call or text

phone’s on do not disturb

and i’m screaming, but i’m dead

bleeding out, and left on read

stitch my mouth, press unsend

trashed everything we’ve ever said

am i on silent?

unlike the voices in my head—

they’re too violent

can’t find a single outlet

or comprehend—did you just disconnect?

switch your number?

or gone braindead?

i’m scared i’m going under

because all i see is red

someone call a doctor

to read my time of death

said that i’ve been slaughtered

as i took my last breath

won’t even say delivered

in our fucking text thread

iM bLeEDinG

aLl ovEr tHe

PLEASE see

mY HyStEriaiS

SpeAkiNg

YoU diD tHis

can’t get any coverage—

except for a shroud

there’s been too much damage,

i’m almost underground

please tell me your percentage

before i can’t be found

can you even acknowledge?

does your phone have any sound?

did you just hit ignore?

is that you within the crowd

watching me bleed out on the floor

but i still want more more more

a knife straight to my chest

without a sound or a text

flooded red smudges

with zero messages

and i’m screaming, but i’m dead

bleeding out, and left on read

blood-splattered, cell screen blurred

deadline stopped, outside the hearse

and it just got so much worse—

i blew up all the towersso nothing even works

all of your computers

and fucking followers

none of it matters

so fuck the universe

all 'cause you couldn’t answer

now all we read is errorrrrrrrrr

the line’s dead.

and so is the part of me that gave a fuck.

im over it

11/09/2024