my skin

I can feel the pressure of my scars
embedding themselves underneath
all those layers of my beat up skin.
My body is their new home.
Now reminding me,
always,
of how I got them.

Thinly sliced wounds growing into scabs.
I pick and pick and pick…
then flick off the old dried blood
to take a peak of what is underneath;
a fleshy hole of my insides.
I push my knees under the water
to drown the wound out.
Maybe it will regenerate…
they say bubble baths can help with that sort of thing.

Rejuvenate..regenerate…
I am just learning from all the things I do not need.
Like this bubble bath.
And him.

I slide underneath the water,
just enough
for it to outline my face
and fill up my ears.
My muffled music is playing.
It does not make any sense right now,
but it’s all I can focus on.
And I’m not sure why
but I enjoy the water filling up my ear drums,
blocking all the sound out,
and I can’t stop wanting to hear something…
anything,
that will regenerate us.

There is a new language
forming on the tip of my tongue;
lyrics I am creating out of my water-logged ears.
I prop my knees up
to give those fleshy holes a chance to breathe again.
My blood erupts
out of my bruised knees,
it glides its way down my thigh
with such precision.
A flawless intentional slice.
It knows where it’s going…
caressing my thigh,
trickling down
the way tears trail our cheek bones…
rejuvenating its rhythm
to the sound I created out of my water-logged ears.

My cuts tell a story, you know.
And that trail of fresh blood
tells the raw story of you.
A story of a lack of discipline.
A story of impulse
and desire for things I do not need.
Like this bubble bath.
And you.

The water turns cold
and red
and darker
as I lay completely still.
Stale and frozen in this fragment of time.
My ears go deaf,
the muffled music has become a long ringing noise
from under the water.
Is that what you’re used to hearing now?
I ignored your phone calls today,
again.

Licking the dirty water
from the corner of my lips,
reminiscing.
Salty.
That is what you tasted like.
Fuckin’ salt.

You knew exactly how to suck
all my energy dry;
you left me choking,
thirsty,
for a sip of anything…
Like this bubble bath.
Steam overpowering my mental thoughts,
drying up my throat
from thinking so damn hard.

I lift my heavy head from out of the water,
pull my knees into my chest,
exposing my broken skin tissues.
There they are again.
And there you are.

My skin bleeding deep
and the only way for it all to heal
is to stitch your name
between the barriers of my dead skin
and watch you drown inside of me;
and when you become a thing I need,
you will tear me open once again.
But until then
I will let my blood pour
out of those fleshy holes in my knees…

I am just learning from all the things I do not need.
Like this bubble bath.
And you.