See where the blood wells
Where I have broken
What some call my skin,
Others my prison.
It is the only red I truly love.
Even the marks I have allowed
Others to give me are not safe.
From them arise sullen pustules.
Nothing about me is clean or holy.
Nothing will suffice.
This is a missive to the ones who will never read it.
Safe, I am therefore, to speak the truth.
See where the sharp air stings my heart
As I fold back the layers.
O stripy one, o stippled goddess,
See how I mark my skin to be like yours.
Others wear striations
Where the knife has let the light in.
I have a thousand thousand flaming gouges,
Blood under my nails;
Disks of skin daily sacrificed
to the Dark Goddess.
All swelling is hers,
to be pried out, cast off.
Any imperfection must be removed.
The scars are a badge of purity
Showing where I have lept
to do her bidding,
oftimes against my will.
My integral integument
is always broken
shadowing
heart
mind
spirit
soul
and life.
Shorn of beauty
in certitude
of servitude.
scratching that itch will always bring you trouble.
go to sleep. go back to sleep.
dream dreams of innocence and unrequited love.
some hearts are happier unfulfilled.
learn to be one.
then the universe, while dancing on your grave
will grant your wishes.