Flesh, no more

Black thorns graft onto blackberry bushes

Crowd my crusted eyelids

Yet I see things no one can

My own personal shades of fatigue


I cut through the thicket of what terrifies me

Hoping my alacrity for the thickening of my soul

Will be enough for me to see beyond my mania

In which my embrace of mania has broken through the forest


I teeter totter on this moving ground

As bugs bite and hiss at me

Warning me of where I am and where I shouldn’t be

Yet I welcome their screams and anger


I see, I hear, I feel the loudest screams and maddening anger

In others, as the mild salsa to the spicy one burning me inside out

I wish I could throw up the red and dirty golden flakes of rust infused in tar

But I can’t, my stomach wants more


The longer I walk and cut through the twinge and anguish

The more the leash on my vehement emotions tears

I have screamed out the tar from my stomach

Or at least thought I did


For that tar has found a way to be part of me

But I found a way to let it pass through me like an innocent bystander

It reminds me how important it is – so I can breathe it into my lungs

When I can’t breathe without a cycle of swill being washed out of me


By tears and pools of blood

Leaving me with another layer on my soul

Hardening me like junk food and artificial sugar hardens arteries

I may breathe differently than I did in the past, but I can live

With flesh, no more


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