floating in that acrid pool of nothingness, 

a feather kissed the tip of my nose and whispered softly over my face.

in that moment, decided. 

i watch the village of women who surround me each day, 

awash with a soft awe at their mossy eyes and woolen hands. 

i link arms with the girl i love most on a late night walk, 

running from the boy who asked me to give apart of myself.

...

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i'm choosing to forget the stick and poke image, 

of myself in my head. 

my likeness is one i want to be liked. 

the stick and poke is immature and elementary. 

think your high school aquaintance,

who always wanted a tattoo. 

but 15 was still too young. 

so they mutilated the innocent skin of their thighs. 

the mutliated image of my body, my face, my ugly wretched soul

b...

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who wants the teenage girl
sitting on her rustled bedsheets. 
stained tshirt, stained tear tracks. 
smiling, cooing and ooing at the people on the tv. 
blushing when he kisses the girl she wants to be. 
or when she sits alone in the cinema, grinning. 
toothy smiles, outrageous laughs
too loud even for the rest. 
seeing the best film in the world. 
then another best film in the world. 
co...

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love feels like cold jealousy. 
sitting across from one another. 
the table could be worlds and oceans. 
i sting with furious stomach churning envy. 
snakes and beetles scurrying between my legs. 
closed and rotten now i know what i do. 
she is so much younger than i,
the times my time was always first, 
no longer exists. 
she broke a cycle as old as i, and therefor 
as old as my time. 
...

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