desperation balloons

forged in the flames of heartache,
I stand resolute and unbendable--
a plastic mold bubbled with bruised indents,
a plaster casting painted with hard planes,
alabaster and porcelain studded with secrets...

desperation floats--
a barbed balloon caught up in the angles
of the back of my throat--
reminding me with every passing day
how far from human I've fallen.

at night, I dream of touches--
scorching and aflame,
tender and kind,
from strangers and loved ones alike.

I always awaken hurting,
a fluff and stuff creature 
stuck somewhere between the real I used to feel
and the imagined I'm becoming.

if I have learned anything
from the forgotten hands of yesterday clocks,
I know I will fling myself from this misery
kicking and screaming

...but I'm worried
what will remain of me
when I do.