Do you see these thin lines,
stretched out, drawn tight,
the thin dividers of space,
keeping me company at night,
and I lay my head on them,
pretending they don't exist.
Comfort comes in the strangest of places.
When my bowl is empty,
and all the lights in the cabin
have gone out; I stroke my finger,
gently, stripping rust dust, and
leaving a trail of blood in its place.
And I push--
harder. Until the pain burns the mind,
and grab on to the wire with both
hands; and push, popping skin,
painting barbs blood red.
Screaming into the darkness of a world,
I cannot enter foot in.
YOU ARE READING
Please Don't Touch
PoetryPlease Don't Touch is my first self-published book of poetry, written and published originally in 2012. #51 in Poetry, 3 June, 2017 #85 in Poetry, 4 June, 2017 #108 in Poetry, 25 May, 2017 #136 in Poetry, 26 May, 2017 #149 in Poetry, 24 May, 2017 #1...
