I am raw, plucked
bare and overexposed;
ashamed of my emotions and
too vulnerable, too fragile
I am not threatened but I do not
feel safe, I ache to hide but where can
I hide from my own mind? I need
time to decay my histrionics and my
need for affection so that it never
resurfaces again, so that I never
resurface again -- I am drowned in
something benign but chaotic, replicating
it's mutation endlessly, perpetually, until
I cannot breathe because I am overexposed --
bare and
plucked raw.