bubble wrap and a car ride

the bubble wrap encases
my palpitating organ to help protect
it from the devastating hurt
and pain you’re going to inflict
on my cold and soulless heart.

if only i could take you on
a car ride, like a mosquito
trapped inside the car,
unable to escape through
the vent and closed window;
and then roll the window down
open the car door and out
you go (with some guidance);
a new destination, unknown,
and I am all the better for it;
except for that new destination:

you’ll burn that fucker down.

my bubble wrap cover has
started to pop, one by one,
with the air pockets puncturing
the organ with deathly memories.

i’m packaged nice and neat for delivery to hell.

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Recently moved back to the States after living 16 months in Vietnam. I write to remove the thoughts trapped in the cobwebs of my psyche before the spider envelopes me whole.

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