They say that she will be.
And as far as I can see,
I'm sheltered
by some rugged,
broken
skeleton of a
body containing skin.

So how can love be released?
Every day of absorption
but nothing
but self-bullying
blown miles
out of proportion.

Soft skin can
pass love and passion;
but it's the thick,
rugged
flesh
your subconscious
seems to remember.

I am a fingernail
covered in cayenne
bitten to the core.

I am a neuron
running into walls
in a room with no door.

I am
the feeling in your gut
the last time you felt sick.

I am
the feeling in your heart
when it does not tick.

I am a broken tea ***
boiling cold water.