There are canyons in my arms.
You don’t see them very well right now because they are old and filled with dark tissue.

But I remember when they were fresh and new.

The river ran red and dripped drop drip.

Look at how the canyon goes all the way down.
It has branches.
They sting like hell.

But it feels worth it.

Wake up to white.
White yells and screams.
White questions,
white answers.
Sterile lies.
The canyons are covered by white.

Now they are gone.

Only a shadow remains.