Spilled cereal bowls, geode scream,
and the obsess compulsion box of my brain.

Did you have to spill me and
the box of Cheerios this morning?
You know how many pieces I come in
and how many strings of 
cereal it takes to wrap three
times around these wrists--
tie me tight and make
me watch all the little Cheerios 
crawl on each others faces--
bend knees-- dirt crumb and 
and obsession scream--
stuck--the geode in my throat--
shout loud enough to crack the diamonds
into cereal on the floor-- 
Don't wake me shaky palms 
leave me alone my torment brain--
this box of haunted numbers--
count me-- add me-- remember me 
this bedevil chant inscribed
in the flaps of the cereal box--
written in the cheerios arranging themselves
on the tile floor-- chant 
consume us this plague-brain--
crack the compulsion geode--
my fear of all the little
circles rolling and rolling and rolling
and disappearing into this tile floor--
and the boxes fell into themselves
on the shelf-- coffee drunken 
and laughing at the way you make
my hands shake when you tip me over--
slowly slowly-- make me 
compulsive like a waterfall
obsess over me and how far I scatter
when you tip me over-- skin scurry 
crowd me into another bowl.
Like this-- like this you know what my skin does--
you knew I scatter like
ants-- beetles-- crinkle in
the knees of centipedes scatter--
Snap the geode on the side
of the cereal bowl like an egg--
you see I don't lock my knees
when I fall so I drop myself nice
and pretty and diamond throat shriek--
Go ahead-- I know you want to
shake this cereal box brain full
of possession plague-- geode fixation
of the shimmer crumbs all smiling across
the floor. Oh how
you spilled me-- and Oh how
I counted myself again
and again.