The skin I flaunt doesn't feel like my own.
I'm a helpless gecko.
Failing to shed my moulting,
I am left to rot within a shell of myself.
This accumulation of my past,
is unbearably blinding.
Dec 26, 2025
Dec 26, 2025 at 9:25 PM UTC
The skin I flaunt doesn't feel like my own.
I'm a helpless gecko.
Failing to shed my moulting,
I am left to rot within a shell of myself.
This accumulation of my past,
is unbearably blinding.
maybe—just maybe—you could be my saving grace, the veterinarian to ease me of my pains.
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