tally marks on the arms, like a
         cartoon prisoner's walls and walls
              of marks,
                       "how many years
              have you been in the hole?"
                    looking for an empty space
            to make another
                             cut,
                god you know, i'm full
            of these redbloom-mouths
                   spitting at me
                       and always asking
              "what are you in for?"
                    for
                          forever, my dear,
          for
                  forever,
             awake and counting sheep.