15.11.21
07:07am
The skin you see me wearing isn't mine.
I got it from a thrift store with a crinkled bill
I should've bought anything else with.
But now this skin (I don't know how) sits so close,
on top of my true bruised blues,
fabricates clean skin like a photocopy machine,
I forget I don't belong in this crowd.
That a collar is still stifling my weakened
spine and if I try to run,
I'll only trip on spiteful algae.
Vampires reside in the nape of my neck,
with a bloodlust you only read about in books
that freeze your blood till it's too thick for you
to breathe and that's why I itch that sore spot
for the fifteenth time in five
minutes but it never bleeds.
I've traded my blood (diluted with second guessing)
to fit in but the vampires are homesick for
all I could have been.
I could have been many things but
I am this bag of bones with
a stitched lip, staked heart, borrowed skin
and a malfunctioning survival instinct.
/// what do y'all think about this photo? took it on the way to a friend's place today.
YOU ARE READING
words don't come that easy.
PoetryI've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first wav...
