There is graphite and skin
caked beneath my fingernails; I'm either destroying
or creating--
The talent comes in doing both
at the same time
II.
A lone dread swings across my face
dissecting my vision
My concentration falters hypnotized by the falling.
III.
My heart is on showcase behind
barbed wire
sometimes it strains erratically against its boundaries
and I drown internally
IV.
There's a poem sleeping on my spine
out of reach of my itchy fingers
I'd scratch for it until I drew blood
and in my bloody picture I'd see self revelations
V.
Thorns and roses grow wild
on my tongueinter
weaving in monstrous beauty
VI.
I look past my reflection
to my shadow piecing itself together
she always proves herself simpler than I
