I’m scared of permanence

Of any form of an ink stain on a white linen shirt

That no matter how hard I try, the scrubbing I do

Will not disappear, will not fade

One day I will come across a stain that will ******* me

And as I attempt to rid it, it will damage me further

This shirt I wear, lies lightly on my skin. A second skin.

I want to be involved yet fear an embrace

Or rather, confuse being held to being held down

Wings being clipped, screams that fall to deaf ears that cannot hear because what I fear doesn’t exist…

The fear keeps me from playing the game, yes,

But can it keep the game from playing me?

warm wine flowing through my body
(Cabernet being ironically the same color as what gives me life)
directed me to my room
at approximately 11:25 pm that Wednesday.
A light in the left corner painting a pleasant and inviting
gold
I tumble into my queen bed
laughter airily escaping my lungs, exhalations of exhilaration
Ruffled a string of words into a message.
Borne of unadulterated joy and hopeless seclusion,
radiation from my center came out of my fingers as
"**** me like the angel I am. I am true beauty and divinity and deserve to feel like a goddess"

the October wind whistles through me, reminding me of the many holes that have formed. I'm a chandelier of hair and bones.