Consume Me Poem by Bea Hayden

I want to bore a hole in my neck so that
the birds can live inside of it,
bathe in the arterial bath,
seek shelter within a being that Never
offered me any sort of
Security.

I want to tear off my fingertips so that the
worms may take over.
They're more productive that my hands
will ever be.
I am mere and fragile, forming callus at
the slightest hint of work, while they
consume and regenerate constantly.

Can't fish also swim in my blood?
Haven't I inhaled enough oxygen? When does it stop?

I'd like it if the flowers would grow up out of my chest.
I'd finally have a chance to become
something beautiful.