Wednesday, November 23, 2011


My scars were stitched shut,
wrapped up in my sleeve and
enveloped from the unknown.
Livid, bleak memories impend beyond
my eyes, circling around me,
taunting me and swearing and
threatening me.
Warm, thick, liquid trickles
down my skin, 
The smell of salt and
rust emerge into the air and then
I can feel it.
Not a sudden, quick feeling but a
sudden, piecing feeling 
one by one, I can feel my 
stitches coming undone
Sluggish, in awe,
My skin stretching.
My flesh burning.
My blood oozing.
I can taste it on
the tip of my tongue.

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