On Skin…

I’ve made a prison cell out of my skin

My heart a fugitive

Always on the run

Charged with wild dreams

I’ve made cheap motels out of my skin

Paying my stay in kind In sketches and poems all over the walls

All over the ceiling

I’ve made a church out of my skin

Confessing in bruises and scars

Praying in addictions

I’ve made a road out of my skin

Following it

Wherever it may lead

At the sound of my thoughts on repeat

I’ve made a basement out of my skin

Where old memories are stored

Where no light finds its way in

And where there are no windows

I’ve made a graveyard out of my skin

Where many come with flowers and leave empty handed

I’ve made a canvas out of my skin

My name written in forbidden colors

I’ve made cigarettes out of my skin

Burning In between a stranger’s lips

I’ve made a flag out of my skin

One that waves lower for all the lost souls

I’ve made a womb out of my skin

Carrying silence

Crying time

Carrying a void in between.